The Spells of Paradise

Prologue

It has taken me a long time to muster up the courage to write this, but I hope it does not form any resentment towards our... No, Your father. He was a good man, and always will be.

I do not ask that you reply to this note. I would not blame you if you set it aflame upon receiving it. But if it so happens that you do not, know that my door is always open. My family is your family, Lucy. Know that if you ever feel alone, you are not. We are here. I am here.

Yours,

John Brandon Quincy

XXX

On the road to Lanfore, Hertfordshire

Lucy Quincy twirled a finger around a lock of her dark hair and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The carriage drove smoothly on the rocky road, but every once in a while they would hit a bump, and it would cause her to jump out of her skin. She was attempting to school herself from thinking about facing her old home again after so many years of being gone. Life in London's high society had been a welcome distraction at best, but after her father's passing, a return home was inevitable. Her mother's health was deteriorating, and soon there would be no one left to take care of affairs back in Lanfore.

Well, save for her.

"What's on your mind?"

Lucy looked up at saw her friend, Beatrice Thornton, watching her with concerned eyes. "I left home when I was thirteen. That feels like a lifetime ago. Returning is just making me feel nervous, that's all."

Beatrice nodded understandingly. "Quite sad your sister could not join us."

"Lydia's always been on her own agenda," Lucy scoffed. "I didn't expect her to come. She's not like me, she wants to be married and have a house full of children. I suppose that's where she and I have always differed. Familial affairs are something she finds tedious and better left in the hands of lesser folk."

Beatrice said nothing in reply to that, but Lucy saw the faintest glint of judgment in her eyes. Being close to twenty-six, Lucy knew that people judged her for not settling down with a wealthy man and having children. But for some reason that never appealed to her. She didn't want to settle for anything or anyone, she wanted to be free and live her life in her own way. Of course one day she wanted to fall in love, but her examples of marriage had always been her father and mother, and that was the worst example there was.

As it was, Lucy wasn't a romantic, she was a realist. In the world, there was no such thing as true romance, only momentary and temporary stirrings of the heart, some stronger than others, but all just as fleeting.

Even so, she had asked her sister to join them—demanded, more like—but the girl was stubborn like their mother. She refused to leave London, where she seemed to be flourishing at an unnatural pace in high society. She even criticized Lucy for volunteering to go and take a look around their old estate, stating that there was no sense in going back to an obsolete existence. She even suggested that the settling of their father's affairs should be left to their uncles, Robert and Matthew Quincy, but Lucy was going for more than just that. She had friends there that she wanted to see again, if they were still there, and it would be refreshing to say the least.

That didn't mean that she still didn't feel nervous. How much had her home changed since she had last seen it? Who was gone, who remained? She thought about her friend from Dawn-Bridge, James Boatwright. What was he doing? Running his father's estate, most likely. Mary Boatwright, his mother, was still alive, but Lucy wasn't certain about his father. There were many things she didn't know, and it was the pit in her gut that wouldn't stop bothering her. Was James married now? Was he not?

She hated not knowing things. It made her feel open to the possibility of disaster.

"I've never been to the country," Beatrice noted, glancing out of the window of their carriage. "In truth, I never had the intention of doing so. It seems largely spread out and quite boring."

"Largely spread out is an understatement," Lucy chuckled. "But I wouldn't call boring. When I was a little girl, three people were murdered in Lanfore. A deputy, and two servants from my own house!"

"No, truly?"

"Indeed," Lucy nodded. "Addison, a maid, and Roger, a footman. Both murdered, though I don't exactly remembered the circumstances behind it. Honestly, I was told very little, even after I left. Eventually, it stopped mattering to me."

"Good gracious," Beatrice shook her head, stunned. "Had it this happened at my house, I would have never forgotten it!"

Lucy smiled, but didn't reply. Of course she remembered everything that had happened, every moment. But she suppressed it for years, because she didn't want those demons to dog her every step of her life. The fond memories were what she held onto, though they were few and far in between. She didn't have close memories with her mother while they lived in Lanfore, which was something she always found odd. To this day, she didn't know what she had done to warrant such a distance from her mother. She just always felt like the odd one out, like she never belonged.

Or maybe that was how you wanted to feel.

"Is that it?" Beatrice asked, sticking her head out of the window. "Is that Lanfore?"

Lucy frowned, had they arrived so soon? Quickly, she scooted closer to the window and looked out.

Yes, there it was. Lanfore, her home. She saw the monstrous estate of Dawn-Bridge from the distance, and the sprinkling of Autumn leaves on the surrounding trees. It was picturesque, stunning. Like a fairy tale kingdom nestled deep in the artistic countryside.

Dear Lord... I'm home.

__________________

Author's Note: And book 2 is a go!! We figured we'd post the prologue early. But since finals is here, we won't be able to post much during this week. Chapter 1 will be posted on the 12th! :)

Vote and comment, let us know how you liked it! And we hope that you enjoy the rest!