Welcome to my silly life

Please be gentle. This is my first fanfiction on Choices. English is not my native language

Characters: Ernest Sinclair, MC, Percival and Vincent (OMC)

Summary: On a winter day Ernest and Clara sit by the fireplace in the library for a while

For several years now, Clara had decided to move to Ledford Park with Ernest, leaving Edgewater to her brothers, who now lived there with their families. She often visited them, watching the growing up of young miss Marlcaster, who was not much older than her own son, Vincent. She and Ernest decided to name their first child after an important person for both of them – Earl Vincent Foredale, Clara's father and a good friend of Mr. Sinclair. The Dowager Countess Dominique was greatly moved to learn that her great-grandson would bear the name of her dead son. This seemed to touch something in Henrietta's heart, but she quickly hid it behind her usual mask of dislike.

"I recently received a letter from Miss Parsons and Prince Hamid," Clara said, pouring hot tea into cups. "It looks like they've already reached the Greek coast. Their ship had just stopped at the port of Athens."

"Tell them that I wish them a speedy and safe return to England," Ernest said, looking up from his book and looking at his wife. The soft glow from the candles made her skin practically glow. Because of these moments, Mr. Sinclair sometimes asked himself: "Maybe is he dreaming?". Suddenly, at some point, he'll wake up and find himself alone again on his estate, surrounded only by a small number of servants? Or, in fact, his beloved will still bound by marriage to the Duke of Richardson? It is not known which of these two options would have been worse for him: the absence of Clara at all or the inability of the two of them to be together.

"It's time to take a little break," Clara said suddenly at his side, and her hands fell gently on his shoulders. "Let's have some tea."

"I need to finish this chapter," Ernest muttered, leaning back in a chair and rubbing tired eyes. “Mr. Marlcaster and I agreed to discuss it tomorrow at Sunday dinner."

"I'm sure Edmund won't blame you if you put this discussion off a bit," Clara persisted, running one hand through his hair and carefully running her fingers through it. Once she said that they reminded her of a cloud, and apparently this cloud sometimes needed to be whipped. "Besides, it is highly likely he himself now hardly has time to read, given the mobile nature of young miss Marlcaster."

"Who does she remind me of?" Mr. Sinclair chuckled, looking at his wife. "Probably all girls named Clara can't sit still for long."

"It's more like the Briar genes," Clara said, and couldn't help but smile. "She's the most restless of the two of us. It has been so since childhood. I think that's one of the things that made my brother love her."

"Maybe, but I like you better."

"I like you, too," Clara said, taking his hand and pulling him gently away from the table. "So I'm going to give you a little break and suggest you have some tea."

Knowing that he simply couldn't refuse his beloved, Ernest followed her to the fireplace, where chairs and a wooden table were placed. Two steaming teacups were inviting with the smell of forest herbs, and the presence of a plate of freshly baked cookies next to them threatened to whet their appetite even before dinner. As soon as they were both at the crackling log fire, Mr. Sinclair stopped Clara for a brief kiss of thanks. However, this was not enough for her, and in a short time she gently grasped the ends of his neckcloth, bringing his lips closer to her again. The familiar heat flared up inside them, especially as the kisses moved slowly to the line of her jaw and then to neck. This caused her to tilt the head back a little, giving him more access to unprotected skin. It might have been more than that if she hadn't accidentally kicked the tea table with the backside of ankles.

"It sounds like a signal to stop," Ernest whispered, with a touch of sadness, but still with a slight smile.

"I wish it were night," Mrs. Sinclair agreed, sharing his thoughts. "Then any tea won't bug us."

After exchanging playful glances, the pair sat down on chairs to have a mini tea party. During this time, Clara confided to her husband the contents of Miss Parsons's letter, in which she told of their adventures on the ship during the voyage from England to the Ottoman Empire. Anabel was so impressed by Prince Hamid's memories of his homeland that she asked him to take her with him the next time he went to visit his family. Suddenly the front doors of Ledford Park swung open, and a child's laughter was heard.

"Mama!" Percival's voice came from somewhere in the corridor. "Papa!"

"We're in the library!" Ernest replied, looking down the aisle, waiting for the children to appear.

"Papa! Vinnie and I made a whole family out of snowmen near Ledford Park!" Percival announced cheerfully, being the first to enter the room.

"Really?” Clara couldn't help but smile as she lifted her youngest son into her lap as he ran in after his brother. Both boys were covered in snow, their faces red from the cold, but their eyes shone with happiness.

"We made four snowmen!" little Vincent confirmed, and showed the number with his frozen fingers. However, due to his age, he showed the number five instead of four, which made his older family members grin, but none of them corrected him.

"Do you want us to show them to you?" Percival asked, sitting on the side of his father's chair.

"Let's get you warm first," Mrs. Sinclair suggested, rubbing the younger child's hands together to warm them. "You must have been cold outside."

The kids immediately nodded in response.

"Take your seats closer to the fireplace and take off your outer clothing, while I get you some cups and we'll all have warm tea and cookies," Clara instructed, setting Vincent in her seat and heading for the kitchen to get the dishes.

"Papa, can you tell us a story?" Percival asked, placing a chair next to Ernest.