Harry’s eyes lit up with curiosity, the same youthful wonder she had seen in him as a child. Despite his limitations, caused by the accident that happened on that dreaded day, six years ago. Yet despite everything, he remained her steadfast companion, her confidante, and her source of strength.
“Come.” She patted the seat beside her. “Sit with me.”
Her heart was heavy with guilt, and the weight of a memory weighed her down, refusing to be ignored as Harry limped over to her with the leg that had never quite healed. She could not escape the memory of the heart wrenching day when Harry had been forever changed.
If only she had not called out to him when the wild horse broke free, if only she had not been distracted, if only she had done everything differently. Those thoughts, like a relentless storm, swirled within her, tormenting her with thewhat ifsand the burden of her actions. She could not escape the responsibility she felt for her brother’s suffering, and it was a weight she would carry with her for the rest of her life.
But Harry did not look like he blamed his sister for anything as he took a seat beside her, right underneath their mother’s portrait, which was their favorite place to be.
Genevieve and Harry’s bond was evident in the silent exchange that found them both sitting in front of a portrait of their mother. The art work, radiant and filled with life, was a stark contrast to the void left in her wake. Her eyes in the portrait seemed to sparkle with the same mystery and wonder that had filled their childhood, that made Genevieve miss her painfully.
“It feels like she is still with us, does it not?” Harry said softly, breaking the silence that had hung between them.
Genevieve nodded, her voice equally soft as she replied, “Yes, it does. Her memory is a treasure, just like the one our grandfather wrote about.”
“Remember the stories she used to tell us?” Genevieve began, a wistful smile gracing her lips.
Harry’s eyes lit up with nostalgia. “The tales of adventures, hidden treasures, and faraway lands? I used to believe every word, and now it seems like that might be because some of what she told us was the truth.”
Genevieve chuckled, “So did I. She had a way of making the ordinary seem extraordinary. You might be right, maybe because there was truth within it.”
“She taught us to dream big, to believe in the impossible,” Harry added. “And she always said that we were capable of achieving anything we set our minds to.”
Genevieve’s eyes welled with tears, but they were tears of love and gratitude. “Yes, she did. She taught us the power of love, of family, and of never giving up.”
But she often wondered if her mother would still love her quite as much as she had if she had been alive when Harry had his accident. Would she have been outcast from the family because it was all her fault? Her father never treated her any differently, but because her mother was not around she would never know.
Genevieve wiped away a tear and turned to face her brother, a strange new determination surging through her. “We should find that hidden treasure, Harry. Not just for us, but for her. Like a promise we’re making to our mother. She is not here anymore, but if she were, you know she would want us to do this.”
“Do you think so?” Harry asked, but it was clear that he liked the idea by the way his eyes shone with determination. “If you think that this is something we must do, then I am fully in accord with you, Genevieve. We can honour Mother’s memory and uncover the secrets our grandfather left behind. Who knows what we will discover about our family land along the way.”
As they looked back at the radiant portrait of their mother, it felt as though her eyes held a knowing twinkle, as if she was watching over them with pride and love. The legacy of their mother’s wisdom and love would guide them on their journey, reminding them of the strength that came from their shared bond and the enduring power of family, Genevieve was sure of it.
The tender moment shared by Genevieve and Harry was interrupted by the polite, measured voice of the butler, who had appeared at the library door. He cleared his throat and announced, “My Lady, Master Harry, Lady Eleanor and her parents have arrived.”
Grateful for the distraction, Genevieve and Harry exchanged a quick, understanding glance before making their way out of the library to greet their relatives. Their cousin Eleanor and her parents were an exciting arrival, having journeyed to spend the winter with them at Graftonshire.
As they entered the grand foyer together, Genevieve’s heart swelled with warmth at the sight of her cousin. Eleanor was a close confidante, and her arrival was a welcome addition to the household. Eleanor’s parents, too, were cherished family members, and their presence brought an air of merriment and companionship to the grand estate. Elanor’s mother, Caroline, was her mother’s sister, so often had tales and memories to make Genevieve feel closer to the woman that she had lost.
Eleanor, her face alight with excitement, stepped forward and embraced Genevieve tightly. “Genevieve, Harry, it has been far too long! I have missed you both dearly.”
Harry, despite his pronounced limp, moved forward to join the warm welcome. “Eleanor, we are delighted to have you here. It has been too quiet without your laughter echoing through the halls.”
Their parents, with smiles that revealed their shared joy, joined the gathering. The family reunion was filled with laughter, embraces, and the promise of shared moments by the hearth during the coming winter. The library’s secrets and the hidden treasure would have to wait, for the bonds of family and the warmth of their presence were a treasure of a different kind, one that Genevieve and Harry cherished beyond measure.
***
The evening sun dipped below the horizon as the family gathered for dinner in the opulent dining room of Graftonshire. The soft glow of candle light cast a warm and inviting ambiance over the meal. Genevieve quickly decided to use this opportunity, with all of her family together, and she could not resist the urge to steer the conversation toward the rumored treasure of Graftonshire.
“Have you ever heard the tales, Eleanor?” Genevieve asked, her voice carrying an air of intrigue, hoping that everyone in the room would hear her. “The stories of hidden treasures, secret maps, and unsolved mysteries that have whispered through the halls of Graftonshire for generations?”
Eleanor, ever the romantic dreamer, leaned forward in her seat, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Oh, I have heard the tales, Genevieve,” she replied. “The stories are like something out of a fairy tale — a treasure chest filled with jewels, hidden beneath the ancient ruins, waiting for a brave soul to uncover it.”
Harry, quickly catching on to what Genevieve was doing, nodded in agreement. “Yes, and the moonlit quests through the Grafton Moors, following cryptic clues to find the treasure, make for thrilling tales.”
Their father, Lord Edward Ellsworth, a man of reason and intellect, regarded the conversation with a more skeptical eye. He spoke with a firm voice tinged with practicality. “My children, those are nothing more than myths and legends meant to entertain young minds. Graftonshire is rich in history, but there is no treasure waiting to be discovered. The stories are but fanciful tales created for the amusement of children. I have grown up listening to such stories myself. They do not mean a thing, do not get distracted by something that does not exist.”
Genevieve could not help but feel a touch of disappointment at her father’s dismissal. While she understood his perspective, the allure of the hidden treasure and the adventure it promised had always captured her imagination, and now that she had the letter with the clues, and the map in hand, she was not about to be deterred.
