“I’m sorry.” Lizzy’s eyes were distant, and I wondered what she was thinking about. “My dad’s been sick with Moonrot lately. I can’t imagine.”
“I bet you’d like to get home to him.” I’m sure being trapped here in a complicated situation was awkward for her. “Sorry you’re stuck here. These country roads are usually the last to be plowed when we have a bigstorm roll in. But I’m sure Darcy will do whatever he can to help you be comfortable for the night.”
“The night?” Lizzy bit her bottom lip.
“It’s highly likely,” Sylvia added while helping me into a pair of fluffy socks. “A couple of times a year we get these types of storms. There’s no coming or going for at least twenty-four hours.”
The sitting-room doors flew open. Henry, Bradford, and Oscar, our butler, ran inside.
“Someone’s been shot!” “A murder!” They spoke simultaneously.
“What?” I blinked.
Darcy followed them into the room, red-faced. “Sorry. They ran in before I could tell them you were changing.”
“Changing?” Henry gulped, taking a backward step.
“It’s okay. We’re done." I looked between their faces."Did you say murder?”
Henry took a large breath and explained. “Your horse made it back to the stables, but she was carrying someone. A man. He had a gunshot wound to the abdomen. He fell off the horse just before we could speak to him, but he mentioned one word. ‘Murder’.”
“Murder at Pemberley?” Darcy’s face darkened and a hint of fae magic glowed at his fingertips. “This is becoming a pattern.”
Chapter 3
“Whatdoyoumean?”I gaped at my brother. We hadn’t had so many deaths. Had we?
“Sorry. Hopefully, I’m mistaken. I’ve been investigating something from the past and whether there is a connection to the Moonrot epidemic. I’ll tell you more about it later.” Darcy opened his mouth to say more, but paused and closed it again.
"The Moonrot epidemic was intentional?" I blinked at my brother.
"I don't know, Georgiana. When I know more, I'll tell you." He looked to Henry, Bradford, and Oscar for answers. “Who died? And where?”
“I’ve no idea who it was.” Cousin Bradford had a bit of a flair for the dramatic. He leaned back, fanning his face and brushing back a blonde curl from his forehead. “I need to lie down. This is too much for my disposition.”
“I don’t know who he was either. We left him in the stable.” Oscar practically dragged Darcy by the arm, and the two of them rushed to leave.
“Stop!” Henry blurted before they made it out the door, his eyes wide. “I know who he was, and so does Georgiana. It’s Zac DeLounge from College de Synthese. But I don’t know what he was doing here.”
"That's a relief. If you know who the unfortunate chap was, then I don't need to worry about helping you figure it out. I'll be in my room should you require me." Cousin Bradford patted me on the shoulder, then swooped out of the room.
“Zac?” I gasped. He was the last person I would ever have expected to find murdered on my doorstep. Zac was the class clown and never took anything seriously. I stared at Henry for a moment. Nothing made sense. “You’re kidding. Here? Come to think of it, why areyouhere?”
Henry's eyes widened, and raised his hands defensively. “The artwork…and coming here was a family tradition when I was a kid. I was in the area.”
I shook my head. "Sorry, that must've sounded like an accusation. I'm justconfused."
“You knew the victim?” Darcy narrowed his eyes at Henry. Everyone in the room stared.
Henry gave an awkward shrug before pushing out more words. “I‘m just as confused as everyone else. I didn’t know Zac was here. It’s a coincidence. I just toured the estate.”
“Art lover?” My brother rolled his eyes, though only I noticed. I didn’t want to argue, but he was right. It was awfully convenient timing, and there had to be more to his story. Darcy didn’t stop clicking his phone—probably calling the police. “Did you know Georgiana lives here?”
“Well, I thought she might still live here. I've been here many times with my parents, back when Georgiana and I were kids.” He muttered, obviously not ready to give us a full explanation. “She had mentioned returning to Pemberley a few times at school.”
I raised a brow. “We used to play outside or chase each other down the corridors when our parents held those dull galas. You should have texted. I would’ve given you a personal tour of the gallery. Though, I can't imagine that it's changed very much since we were kids.”
Henry scratched the back of his neck, looked toward the door, then back at me. “I guess I should have; it's just been a while. Would that have been presumptuous?”
