CHAPTER 1

Present day,

Graftonshire, Winter…

Genevieve's footsteps were silent on the plush carpet as she stepped into the family library, a sanctuary of knowledge and wisdom that had been her refuge throughout her life. The familiar scent of aged paper and polished mahogany enveloped her, a comforting embrace that never failed to soothe her restless spirit.

The library was a sanctuary of her family's history, a repository of tales and wisdom passed down through generations. As she skimmed her fingers over the titles, each spine whispered secrets and stories, their worn bindings holding a world of knowledge. The shelves were a testament to her ancestors' love for literature, a treasure trove of their collective wisdom.

However, amidst the well worn volumes and the comforting ambiance, one particular leather bound journal captured her attention. One she had not noticed before now. It lay nestled on a lower shelf, as though waiting for her to discover its hidden secrets. The journal, its pages yellowed with age, held an air of mystery that beckoned to her.

With delicate fingers and a racing pulse, Genevieve gently lifted the journal from its resting place. The leather cover, softened by time, seemed to pulse with the heartbeat of countless tales contained within. She carefully opened the journal and began to leaf through its pages, her eyes devouring the elegant script that adorned them.

It was clear that the journal was old, the ink fading but still legible. Genevieve's curiosity deepened as she read the name etched on the first page: Lord Alan Ellsworth . The name was familiar; Lord Allan was her grandfather whose life had been shrouded in mystery. Unfortunately, he had passed away before she was born so she never got to know him. But perhaps this was a time where she could finally get to understand him better.

The discovery sent a shiver down Genevieve's spine. It was as though Lord Alan's voice, long silenced by time, had whispered to her from the past, inviting her to unravel the mysteries hidden within the pages. Genevieve knew that this journal held the key to a deeper understanding of her family's history and the secrets that had been passed down through the generations. With a sense of determination and excitement, she settled into a comfortable chair, ready to embark on a journey through time and discover the hidden truths that lay within the journal's weathered pages.

Genevieve delicately turned the page of the old leather bound journal, its pages protesting softly as they unveiled the secret words hidden within. As she turned the first page with care, a yellowed letter, fragile with age, gently fell into her lap. It bore no specific addressee, as if it had been meant for anyone who dared to discover its contents.

Treasure? Genevieve thought to herself as she saw what appeared to be a map. Buried here?

The flowing script, written by her late grandfather, revealed a secret that had been buried in the depths of her family's history. Genevieve's heart quickened as she read his words, which hinted at an unsolved mystery, a treasure hidden within the very boundaries of Graftonshire itself. It was a treasure that had eluded generations, a puzzle waiting to be solved, and a legacy left behind by their ancestors. The sort of mystery that Genevieve had only thought occurred in stories before now, never in real life. But perhaps she was wrong.

The words on the weathered parchment were filled with riddles and half truths, evoking a flurry of emotions within Genevieve. Excitement coursed through her veins, the prospect of adventure beckoning with an irresistible charm. Doubt, too, gnawed at the edges of her excitement. Could this treasure be real, or was it merely a product of her grandfather's imagination? Was it simply a story that he had written to let time by-pass him, or was there more to it? She desperately wanted to unravel this mystery, and she felt an insatiable thirst for adventure welling up inside her.

It was the map that really caught Genevieve's attention. It was meticulously drawn and aged like fine wine. It revealed the landscape of Graftonshire and its surrounding areas, with cryptic markings and symbols hinting at the location of the hidden treasure. The map was a tantalizing puzzle, a key that could unlock the secrets of the past and lead to the elusive treasure that had remained hidden for centuries. If it were real.

Oh, I so hope that this is real.

Genevieve was immersed in the contents of the letter, the words etched in time by her late grandfather. As she followed the trail of clues and riddles with her fingers along the map, a bitter sweet memory surfaced, like a fragile petal carried by the winds of time. She thought about the horrible passing of her mother once more, a memory that threatened to overwhelm her every single time she thought of it.

But this time, instead of focusing on her mother's passing, she thought about the wonderful times they had as a family when she was still alive. She remembered once more the stories that her mother used to tell Harry and her. It was her mother who had often regaled Harry and her with bed time stories, filled with adventures and hidden treasures. With treasure maps based on their land, just like this one. With each story, her mother's eyes would twinkle, and her voice would carry a hint of mystery, as if she held secrets close to her heart.

Did she know? Genevieve thought to herself. It certainly felt like it at the time. Her mother had spun the story with such vivid detail that it had felt like a promise — a promise that one day they would uncover the hidden riches and embark on a grand adventure together.

Just as she brushed the tear away, a soft voice interrupted her musings. Genevieve turned her head, her eyes meeting those of her younger brother, Harry. He stood there, smiling at her, filling her with warmth and love, even though guilt tinged the edges of everything.

"Genevieve," he said, his voice a gentle and comforting presence. "What are you reading?"

She closed the letter, her heart still heavy with memories. "It's a letter from Grandfather," she replied, her voice filled with a mixture of excitement and nostalgia. "He left us a puzzle, Harry, a treasure to find. Do you remember the stories that Mother used to tell about the treasure of Graftonshire? I think she was telling us the truth, not stories."

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 the what ifs and 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.

As the evening progressed, the conversation at the dinner table flowed in other directions, but Genevieve's thoughts remained firmly fixed on the treasure hunt that beckoned her. Her determination was unwavering, despite what her father had said, and she made a silent vow to herself that she would unravel this mystery, even if it meant going against her father's wishes. She could only hope that Harry was in agreement with her.

While her father was a man of reason and practicality, she had inherited her mother's spirit of adventure and seemingly her grandfather's love for the unknown. The tales of hidden treasures and moonlit quests had captured her imagination, and she could not let them go.