Chapter 11
Before dinner, we invited our guests into the music room, where I performed a classical arrangement of Greensleeves on the harp. This gave our staff time to finish setting the dining hall for the perfect Christmastime feast.
When Oscar gave us the all clear, we ushered our guests into the room.
Rows of candles were the only source of light aside from the glowing fireplace, and soft orchestral music played from the sound system.
Pine cones and sprays of evergreen garnished a red and white floral display in the center of the table, and each place setting was comprised of matching ivory china with a gold holly and ivy trim.
“What hospitality!” Mr. Arnold praised Darcy. “I’m so blessed to have such kind neighbors.”
The rest of the group murmured similar sentiments. Under the table, Henry reached for and took my hand, then gave it a little squeeze.
My spine tingled, wondering what was in store for our future.
During the first course, Waffles snuck into the room and hid underneath my chair. I slipped her a few scraps of unseasoned chicken, and Henry scratched her head when he noticed her. Daphne and Bradford were seated across from us and were quickly engaged in conversation.
She seemed to be taken in by his elf-like features and golden curls. "And you're writing a book on the genealogy? How fascinating."
"Well, the art really tells us the stories. I'm just putting them into words." Bradford attempted humility, but it didn't quite fit. "Georgiana can probably tell you all about any of the pieces you're interested in."
"Maybe. I should study more about them, if I'm being honest. My passions lie mostly in music and chemistry." Though my parents had drilled much of our family history into both me and Darcy, it was hard for me to connect to distant relations.
Bradford gave me a sympathetic glance. "Maybe when my book is finished, you'll find them more intriguing. I wasn't so interested in them either at your age."
"Have you considered adding images of the art collection into your book?" Daphne asked. "If not, I suspect they would make a great addition. The treasure this estate holds is incalculable."
"I hadn't, but that's not a bad idea." Bradford nodded to her.
After the perfect meal Rose and Chef Dorin had prepared, Daphne proposed the group take a tour of the gallery together, which saved Darcy from having to make the suggestion.
“You see, I’m very interested in some of the work here, and I’d love to have a family perspective on it.
Some of those portraits go back to the 1700s. ”
“A tour from Darcy and Georgiana themselves. That would be most enjoyable,” Susan Longfield gushed.
So of course, Darcy agreed, “We’d be happy to offer a tour.”
Together, we paraded down the grand hallway to the main floor gallery.
Something about entertaining a group of essential strangers was inexplicably absurd to me.
At night, the art gallery was dark aside from the small spotlights illuminating each piece of art.
The vast room echoed back our voices and footsteps, almost as if Pemberley was trying to warn us not to stay there.
Despite the almost eerie backdrop, conversations among the group remained pleasant and neutral as Darcy began the tour. He explained how the family acquired different pieces and their histories.
“Well, now.” Daphne stood in front of a newer portrait of a dark-haired fae. “If I understand your family line correctly, this must be Bradford’s grandfather and the Valemont’s great uncle.”
“Why, yes.” Bradford cleared his throat. “I’m surprised at how much you know of our family line.”
“I’ve studied the art collections owned by fae royalty extensively.
It’s rather fascinating. You know, I own a gallery," Daphne said, holding her head high and blinking at Bradford as though he should be very impressed. If she’d known Bradford was visiting, I might’ve suspected she’d shown up at Pemberley in search of a husband.
“Oh, if you don’t mind, I’d love to interview you sometime,” Lizzy cut into the conversation. “I’m working on a series of articles about art and history in this region.”
“Hmm. Perhaps we should compare notes at some point. That might be interesting,” Bradford offered cordially, though to me the comment seemed empty, like he had no real interest in ever speaking to either Lizzy or Daphne again after this evening.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Darcy’s jaw tighten.
“My goodness.” Daphne stood in front of the painting of Great Uncle Alfred Valemont talking to Bradford. “You really must take after your mother’s side of the family. Your coloring and features are nothing like your grandfather’s. Was your father’s hair so dark?”
Bradford narrowed his eyes at Daphne. “Like my fair cousin, Georgiana, I must have gotten my light hair and eyes from a more distant relative.”
“Fascinating,” Daphne cooed, looking with admiration at Bradford. “Of course, her mother, the Queen, was very fair. Genetics are interesting, aren’t they?”
It was true, my mother had very light hair. But Carissa and Bradford’s mother’s hair was nearly black. Carissa had dark hair and eyes. But Bradford…
He didn’t respond to Daphne’s comment but turned to admire a large bronze sculpture of a rearing horse. “Well now, Darcy. Tell us about this piece. We do love horses in our family, don’t we?”
Darcy shrugged and explained the history of our great grandfather’s beloved racehorse, Evangeline. I shuffled next to Henry and whispered, “That was an odd interaction.”
“Agreed,” Henry muttered. “I think Bradford was uncomfortable.”
“I was uncomfortable.” I smirked, but there was something deeper. Why did Bradford have such light hair and eyes? He wasn’t related to my mother’s side of the family, and none of his supposed relatives were so pale.
Throughout the rest of the tour, Daphne’s attention was on Bradford. And while he’d been raised to always exhibit impeccable manners, I could read between the lines. He wanted nothing to do with her.
“You live in Spain, then?” Daphne gushed. I wasn’t sure what it was about Bradford that turned her from a sophisticated art dealer to a bubbling schoolgirl.
“Um, yes. Outside of Madrid.” He sighed.
“I bet you’re able to visit London and Paris…” she said dreamily. “I love Paris. I’m there all the time.”
My jaw dropped. Paris. That was the connection to Zac. It had to be.
Henry and I exchanged glances, but Darcy was near the front of our party and hadn’t heard. I jogged up to Darcy and whispered in his ear. He nodded.
“I have a brief announcement,” Darcy called everyone to attention.
“As some of you may know, we had a tragic death on the property today. Zac DeLounge, a relative stranger to us all, was shot and killed. We don’t know for sure whether it was accidental or on purpose, and highly doubt the killer is here at Pemberley.
However, for your safety, please lock your doors this evening.
Additionally, in case you’re concerned, his body is out in the stables, so no need to worry about spending the night in a home with a dead body. ”
“You think there’s a murderer among us?” Mr. Arnold stuttered. “I hope not.”
“We know nothing for sure,” Darcy spoke soothingly but with authority. “But we take everyone’s safety very seriously.”
“You must be so concerned about everyone, especially your staff. I hope we're not in danger.” Daphne proclaimed, gesturing toward our party. "You do feel your staff are trustworthy?"
Frustration flushed through me. How dare she try to blame our staff, especially if she was guilty herself.
She knew none of them. “We have a highly trusted staff who’ve been with us for years, and I’m sure none of them are dangerous.
I’m going to retire for the evening. I’ll see you all at breakfast.”
I left the room, mind spinning. But before I’d made it a few yards out of the gallery, a strong hand caught my shoulder. I spun around to see Henry standing behind me.
“You’re just going to leave?” He looked wounded.
“Oh, sorry. No, I just needed to get out of there.”
“Okay, I just… well, can I at least walk you back to your room? With Darcy's announcement, I'm worried everyone may be in danger now.” Henry's blue eyes darkened.
“Yes,” I whispered. “And I have an idea.”
Once we’d made it back to my sitting room, I closed and locked the door behind us.
“Did you catch what Darcy said?” I asked, curling up on an armchair. “He told everyone where the body is.”
Henry nodded. “The money.”
“I doubt he accidentally dropped that, either. He’s probably trying to trap the killer.” I frowned.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” he asked. “I mean, you’ll all be safe and they’ll catch him.”
I sighed and pulled in a deep breath. The sweet pine-scented air reminded me of my childhood Christmases. “Darcy is usually responsible. But he can be self-sacrificing for people he cares about. I’m worried he’ll put himself in danger.”
“I see. Well, I’ll offer to help him. But, Georgiana, you’ve already been through too much today. I know you’re acting like you’re fine, but your injuries were severe. You’re safe here in your rooms. I could stand guard.”
I shook my head. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”
Henry grinned. “Yes, I do. But you can’t blame me for trying. So since we’re obviously going to be involved and trying to stop you would be futile, what’s your plan? The least I can do is support you.”
At that moment, I knew I wanted Henry in my life for a very long time, no matter who objected.
“Nothing too drastic. We’ll just watch and wait.” I shrugged.
“Sounds cozy,” he said.
“We might not have to do much of anything. I just want to make sure Darcy doesn’t get in over his head.”