I was going to save Molly no matter how, ... and I wanted Molly to have siblings.

Both my parents are educators. My siblings and I always had to get good grades no matter what outside interests we had.

What is the matter with her?” Lillian asked Daisy, bewildered by her mother’s docile manner. It was nice not to have to scrap and spar with Mercedes, but at the same time, now was when Lillian would have expected Mercedes to mow her over like a charging horse brigade.
Daisy shrugged and replied puckishly, “One can only assume that since you’ve done the opposite of everything she has advised, and you seem to have brought Lord Westcliff up to scratch, Mother has decided to leave the matter in your hands. I predict that she will turn a deaf ear and a blind eye to anything you do, so long as you manage to keep the earl’s interest.”
“Then… if I steal away to Lord Westcliff’s room later this evening, she won’t object?”
Daisy gave a low laugh. “She would probably help you to sneak up there, if you asked.” She gave Lillian an arch glance. “Just what are you going to do with Lord Westcliff, alone in his room?”
Lillian felt herself flush. “Negotiate.”
“Oh. Is that what you call it?”
Biting back a smile, Lillian narrowed her eyes. “Don’t be saucy, or I won’t tell you the lurid details later.”
“I don’t need to hear them from you,” Daisy said airily. “I’ve been reading the novels that Lady Olivia recommended… and now I daresay I know more than you and Annabelle put together.”
Lillian couldn’t help laughing. “Dear, I’m not certain that those novels are entirely accurate in their depiction of men, or of… of that.”
Daisy frowned. “In what way are they not accurate?”
“Well, there’s not really any sort of… you know, lavender mist and the swooning, and all the flowery speeches.”
Daisy regarded her with sincere disgruntlement. “Not even a little swooning?”
“For heaven’s sake, you wouldn’t want to swoon, or you might miss something.”
“Yes, I would. I should like to be fully conscious for the beginning, and then I should like to swoon through the rest of it.”
Lillian regarded her with startled amusement. “Why?”
“Because it sounds dreadfully uncomfortable. Not to mention revolting.”
“It’s not.”
“Not what? Uncomfortable, or revolting?”
“Neither,” Lillian said in a matter-of-fact tone, though she was struggling not to laugh. “Truly, Daisy. I would tell you if it were otherwise. It’s lovely. It really is.”
Her younger sister contemplated that, and glanced at her skeptically. “If you say so.

No. Doesn't matter,

It doesn't matter to me. I know that I am getting the reps with the No. 1s, and if I was still going with the 2s, I would be doing the same thing,

Poppy took a deep, appreciative breath. “How bracing,” she said. “I wonder what makes the country air smell so different?”
“It could be the pig farm we just passed,” Leo muttered.
Beatrix, who had been reading from a pamphlet describing the south of England, said cheerfully, “Hampshire is known for its exceptional pigs. They’re fed on acorns and beechnut mast from the forest, and it makes the bacon quite lovely. And there’s an annual sausage competition!”
He gave her a sour look. “Splendid. I certainly hope we haven’t missed it.”
Win, who had been reading from a thick tome about Hampshire and its environs, volunteered, “The history of Ramsay House is impressive.”
“Our house is in a history book?” Beatrix asked in delight.
“It’s only a small paragraph,” Win said from behind the book, “but yes, Ramsay House is mentioned. Of course, it’s nothing compared to our neighbor, the Earl of Westcliff, whose estate features one of the finest country homes in England. It dwarfs ours by comparison. And the earl’s family has been in residence for nearly five hundred years.”
“He must be awfully old, then,” Poppy commented, straight-faced.
Beatrix snickered. “Go on, Win.”
“‘Ramsay House,’” Win read aloud, “‘stands in a small park populated with stately oaks and beeches, coverts of bracken, and surrounds of deer-cropped turf. Originally an Elizabethan manor house completed in 1594, the building boasts of many long galleries representative of the period. Alterations and additions to the house have resulted in the grafting of a Jacobean ballroom and a Georgian wing.’”
“We have a ballroom!” Poppy exclaimed.
“We have deer!” Beatrix said gleefully.
Leo settled deeper into his corner. “God, I hope we have a privy.