Technically Ailsa was supposed to be working on a corset for a young lady not at all pleased with the abundance of her figure but somewhere along the line she had begun to wonder whether a sense of self-belief would help Miss ___ more than cinching would and, whilst her mind pondered how to convey that, she had fallen soundly asleep underneath her fabric swatches. The were surprisingly cosy and the last few weeks had been rather tiring with owls occasionally pecking the windows in the dead of night: Astrild’s timing had never been exactly outstanding and it wasn’t really her fault the owl’s took their time to fly across the North Sea.

The maid’s gentle shake roused her from a wonderful dream involving Vikings and stockings and moments later, blinking away sleep, Ailsa ambled into the drawing room to meet her son-in-law.

“Eugene darling,” she greeted, kissing him gently on the cheek, and looking around the ground in the same manner her husband had moments before she'd entered the room. “What a lovely surprise! Where's my grandson?”

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oh MJ mama likes ;)