"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 happyto 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.”
“Iwas 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.”
