Her World, Beginning and End

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The Rosier Family Estate (England).

Late Autumn, 1967.

Wesley's annoyed with Toinette Rosier.

Well, at first, that is.

But not for long ...

The root of his annoyance stems from the fact that he's out here, trying to toil away in the gardens, trying to do the honest work he's being paid woefully little for, and above all, trying to push her out of his mind.

Because it's wrong to desire another man's wife

And beyond that, there's absolutely no reason to want a complete stranger as badly as he does

It's entirely illogical

So it's just a matter of willpower then, yes?

But she's making it awfully complicated, having set up camp outside this afternoon. Outside, and just beyond arm's reach of him, quite purposefully.

In Toinette's defence, she's not trying to cause Wesley any anguish or consternation. She's simply desperate for a friend, a companion. She's withering here, all alone. And the instant attraction she felt for him completely aside, she simply can't help herself from trying to form a human connection. It's her cry for help; her bid to help herself escape the crushing pain of the control and isolation Achille's constantly subjecting her to.

Completely unaware of all this, the muggle-born gardener's set himself to the task of pulling weeds out the ground as he steadfastly avoids her near constant gaze, all the while issuing a silent stream of rather foul curses over his frustration at the present situation.

As for Toinette, she's brought her travelling Potions kit outside with her, having spread herself out on a blanket on the grass, determined to make good use of the day's unseasonably warm weather. And so she's cleaning her Potions kit diligently as she dreams of mixing ingredients. And when she's dusted all the little vials and polished the miniature cauldron, she begins reviewing the little Potions notebook she keeps.

It's always been her favourite subject, Potions.

Even when homeschooled as a young witch in-training, Toinette loved Potions. When asked, she'll wax poetic about it endlessly. She enjoys the rigour of it, the mental discipline, the delicate touch it requires. And above all else, Toinette likes having a tangible reward for her efforts; evidence of her labour.

What better art for rewarding hard work than Potions?

An opinion she's expressed to little Evan many times when he's asked her about magical education.

Achille allows it because it's harmless enough. But he's quite vocal about the fact he'll pull her kit and notebook permanently away from her if it threatens to interfere with what he considers to be her "wifely duties."

Wifely duties: hosting parties; spending as much alone time with him as he demands; networking with relatives and friends; and tending to the estate as befits her position as lady of the manor.

But ...

A savvy observer will note - nowhere among those job descriptions will one find mention of the word "mother."

...

Biting at her lip, Toinette runs her fingers adoringly over the yellowed pages of her Potions notebook, which Achille usually keeps locked in the drawer of their bedside table. When she asks for it, he demands something of her in return, usually a sexual favour. The first few years of their marriage, such a thing was unheard of. But somehow, over time, it's become the regular habit.

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