Chapter 1
Georgiana's Story
Chapter One
I turned over the cream envelope tied shut with a mulberry ribbon in my hands.
The anonymous letter gave me more joy than it should have.
The idea of having a gallant secret admirer was too delicious not to indulge.
So I tucked the newly arrived letter into my sweater and made my way to my library to read it privately.
My library was the perfect place to hide away.
It was littered with books, shelves of them, stacks of them, piled nearly to the ceiling in places.
It was utterly disorganized and entirely beautiful.
To have such a room in an orderly, methodical house like Pemberley was something I considered to be a personal accomplishment.
I hoped no one would stop me as I made my way through the corridor.
Over the years, I’d defended my personal library from the well-intentioned hands of housekeepers, butlers, and personal assistants who offered to organize it into something presentable.
But I intended my library to be private and personal. In short, the opposite of presentable.
When I finally made it to the third floor, I scurried inside and closed the door behind me, safe from the demands of being Pemberley’s fae princess.
I’d deliberately created a space where no one dared disturb me because the rest of the oversized gothic estate I called home had little privacy.
It was a popular destination for tourists, social elites, aristocratic fae, and our many distant relations who claimed to be “close” family.
Technically my brother and I could have closed it off to visitors.
But even though our parents passed years ago, we kept the home open through the holiday season as a royal pillar of fae strength and a beacon to our kind, fulfilling our obligations to the community and all that.
It was our parents’ tradition, so both Darcy and I honored it.
Fortunately, I didn’t need to be personally involved in all the tours.
The royal establishment, essentially Pemberley’s staff and associates of my uncle, took care of most public affairs.
And so I usually ended up spending a great deal of December alone, hiding away in my perfectly disheveled library.
With the Christmas tours at the height of the season, it was the perfect time to remain unseen.
I ran my fingertips over the spines of the classics collection.
The gray December skies outside contrasted with the glowing fireplace in the corner, and it seemed like a day for something a little forlorn. Bronte, maybe.
But first, I’d look over my letter.
I refrained from admitting to Darcy that I had a secret admirer and actually enjoyed the letters. He’d certainly see them as juvenile. Full-grown adult that I was, I mentioned them to no one, except Rosie and Vanda. Since they were literally plants, they wouldn’t be telling anyone.
All the same, my heart rate picked up just a little as I slid the ribbon from the carefully folded paper. It was similar to the others I received every week for the past three months.
Georgiana,
To hold your hand and walk in the rain, or share a dessert for two. Thousands of memories, imagined, etched in my heart when I dream of you.
Memories imagined. Romantic, probably, depending on who wrote it. Part of me didn’t want to know. For now, my mysterious admirer could be anyone I dreamed up, and I doubted reality could ever match my imagination.
“Too bad you’re too scared to show your face,” I muttered.
Don’t be ridiculous, my face is gorgeous. I sensed a reply from my orchid, Vanda, sitting in the windowsill.
I smiled but didn’t respond. Communicating with plants could border on absurdity at times.
I tucked myself into the window seat next to the amethyst orchid and opened my book. But I struggled to focus on the wintry English moors in the narrative. They seemed too similar to my current reality and not like the escape I needed.
I gazed out the paned window seat from the third floor. Miles of forests, rustic pathways, and occasional cottages surround Pemberley. Patches of snow and barren oak trees perfectly illustrated the dull December day.
Among the flood of tourists on the ground floor below, an elderly couple bundled up in their winter coats faced the chilly air and climbed the steps to the main entrance of my home. Our accommodating staff would greet them. The art collection and Christmas display were second to none.
Living at Pemberley and living in a museum had to be rather similar. But at least I had my private rooms and library sequestered off from the tourist areas.
So when a strange young woman with dark hair wandered into my room, I nearly jumped out of my skin.
I tumbled out of the window seat and onto the floor, then pulled myself up. “Oh my goodness, you scared me to pieces!”
“I didn’t realize anyone else was in here.
..” The girl paused, brushed back a lock of chocolate hair, and squared her shoulders.
She was surprisingly pretty but looked worried about something.
“I’m a journalist. My name is Lizzy. I’m doing a piece about the art collection here. Sorry for intruding.”
Something about her was familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. But she seemed harmless enough, so I did my best to be a gracious hostess. “Understandable. It gets pretty hectic when we host the holiday open houses. My name is Georgiana Valemont.”
Lizzy’s mouth fell open. “You’re Darcy’s sister?”
“I am.” I smiled. “Are you his friend?”
A flush rose on her cheeks. “I don’t… well, we met in Austen Heights.”
My shoulders relaxed. If she was Darcy's friend, I could trust her. “Wait, Lizzy? Lizzy Bennet, I remember now. My brother told me all about you.”
Lizzy’s blue eyes widened. “Oh?”
“Yes. This is such a perfect coincidence.” I stood and walked to the sconce on the wall and pushed the release button.
The bookshelf next to it slid open to reveal the adjoining room, my brother’s private office, where he was working on some kind of research at his oversized mahogany desk. “Darcy, your friend is here!”
Darcy, my handsome—or so they say—older brother, was wearing the horrendous holiday sweater Aunt Eloise knitted for him. He spun around in his leather office chair with a pen behind his ear. “Come again?”
“Lizzy Bennet, your friend. She’s right here.” I smiled at my brother, who’s cheeks had grown bright pink… oh, he liked her.
I turned around to see Lizzy slowly backing away toward the library door. “Oh, sorry, I thought you were also here to see Darcy?”
“I was doing a piece about the art…” Her cheeks were just as pink as Darcy’s.
A laugh escaped my lips. At least something amusing was happening. Since I couldn't get myself to focus on the tumultuous world of Catherine and Heathcliff, I might as well help these two awkward souls out.
“Well, then. Welcome anyway.” I turned back to Darcy. He’d had finer moments. He’d forgotten his manners entirely, and sat staring at both of us, mouth slightly agape. I cleared my throat.
“Oh, right. Welcome to Pemberley.” Darcy finally hopped up from his chair and made his way across the room. “My apologies. I wasn’t expecting… what brings you here?”
Lizzy had backed completely to the library door. “I came with my aunt and uncle…” She was flabbergasted and gave a slight shrug. Poor girl.
“I see.” Darcy smiled, unbuttoning the bright red and green monstrosity he had over his polo and dropping it on the nearest armchair. I knew the look on my brother’s face. He could hardly believe his luck, but he had also been bred to play the perfect host. “Well, I’d love to show you around.”
“Oh, right. Yes, that sounds good.” Lizzy looked between our faces, like she wanted me to intervene.
Not a chance. At least one of us should have an adventure today.
“Enjoy your book, Georgiana.” Darcy nodded, obviously not interested in having me tag along.
The pair left me alone again with around 15,000 of my favorite books.
Someday I’d allow them to be perfectly arranged again, like they had been when my parents were still alive—when Mom and I shared this library.
But for the time being, I took solace in my cozy nest of stories where I could hide from the rest of the world.
If only it were enough to keep me content.
But being alone in a perfect library wasn't always enough for a twenty-one-year-old girl.
I needed to live, too. Many girls my age lived with roommates in apartments, dated, and had adventures as they tried to make a living.
But not me. I was safe and alone with my brother and our extensive staff in the New England countryside, miles from any excitement and unsure where I wanted to go with my future.
I sighed, picked up the book I’d dropped on the floor, and returned it to the shelf.
Being home for Christmas used to be so magical. My parents' deaths a few years ago had changed everything. Mom used to make sure we had a calendar full of parties, shopping, and traditions. Even after that, I had Darcy and Wickham.
But since we’d had a falling out with Wickham, which I tried never to think about, Darcy spent most of his time doing research and travelling.
So I was often alone.
I touched the window’s paned glass and looked out over our property.
Thickening fog covered the grounds, gardens, and surrounding forest. As a fae princess, I had a few gifts.
Communicating with nature, particularly plants, was high on this list. But they slept through the winter, and the world was quiet.
I shook my head. How ridiculous for a fae princess to be pouting in her enormous estate.
Riding would pull me out of this slump. I descended a hidden back staircase, stopped by my room to grab my riding habit, and continued down to the main level so I could exit on the stable’s side.
“Oh, Miss Georgiana,” our head butler, Oscar, called before I could make it outside. “You’ll want to be careful. There’s a storm rolling in, and we’ve got a lot of guests on the property.”
I waved to Oscar. “Perhaps we should start sending guests away if the weather is too bad. But I’ll be fine.
I’m taking Luna, she can handle a storm.
” Luna was the most reliable horse I’d ever owned.
She could steer us back to Pemberley on her own, and she could easily run for miles even in the fiercest weather.
Oscar furrowed his brows. “Of course. Do be careful, though. The weather report said it may be a squall.”
I paused for a moment but shrugged it off. He worried way too much about the weather, but he meant well. “I have a GPS tag on Luna’s saddle, my phone, and I’ll stay on our property.”
With that, I was off to the stables, where I found Luna dozing in her stall. I brushed her mane and offered her an apple. “You want to go for a ride, pretty girl?”
Clearly communicating with animals was more difficult for me than speaking to plants. But it was still considered one of my gifts. I picked up on Luna’s wild energy, and it spread through me as well. Our emotional bond was undeniable, and it surpassed mere words.
She nudged me with her muzzle, and her silky coat twitched. When the world was lonely, connecting with animals and nature grounded me and fed my soul.
“We could use an adventure today. Wouldn’t you say, Luna?”
I loaded her saddle and bridle, and we were off, flying over Pemberley’s grounds.
When the property was first established, it housed hundreds of people.
A few farmers lived on the land, grew vegetables, and raised livestock.
Dozens of tradesmen and servants lived at Pemberley or in the surrounding cottages on the property.
But modern life changed much of it, and we had to hire out a lot of the upkeep.
I thought of Darcy back home, trying to chat with Lizzy and not embarrass himself.
He was such a dork. Not that anyone else on the planet knew it.
But he was a sweet, well-intentioned dork.
With all the drama I had with Wickham in September, I doubted I’d ever find a guy I trusted as much as my brother.
I urged Luna, galloping past the main grounds and across the north field.
Cold air bit into my cheeks, the wind picked up, and a few clouds gathered on the horizon.
Oscar was right. A storm was coming in. Nothing I hadn’t dealt with before.
As long as there wasn’t any lightning—and there never was in winter—Luna would be fine.
The densest woods surrounding Pemberley lined a paved road leading off the property.
One could barely see through the dense coverage of pines and oaks.
Over the years, Luna and I forged a secret dirt covered path.
It was high above the paved road to shield us from view, but I could look over the ridge and see downward for miles.
Contagious excitement pumped through Luna’s heart as she climbed the hill, then tore over the terrain. We were in sync, and I no longer had to guide her.
“Good girl, Luna,” I cried. “We’re flying.”
For a moment, anyway.
We rounded a curve that formed a bit of a cliff over the road below. Darcy would have a heart attack if he knew how many times we’d run around this stretch of land.
Just as we made the sharpest turn, an unseen explosion echoed through the trees.
Luna reared, lurching to the side, and the inertia threw my body in the other direction.
The reins slipped through my fingers. A scream caught in my throat as I fell, hit the ground, and rolled down the embankment toward the single lane paved road.
Through the blur of tree roots, snow, and dirt, I caught sight of a red sports car heading right toward me.