A wedding feast had been arranged by me for the four of us that evening as we flew over what seemed to be Kansas. Georgie peered around me and said that it actually looked like a map, with dividers made of thick lines. It also seemed that everything we flew over was either a grass or hay field, due to the golden and green colors that were below us.

The wedding feast was a Caesar salad, a massive chicken, Yukon gold potatoes, a simple leek and potato soup, and hot chocolate lava cake complimented with vanilla ice cream. As I chewed a lettuce leaf carefully, the captain announced we'd be clearing over New York in the next two hours or so; we were now flying over Missouri. The captain gave his name again, Adam Johnson, and he seemed to be a friendly enough fellow.

Just as we'd finished dessert, Captain Johnson announced we'd cleared through some fog in Chicago and now we'd be flying over Indiana. A while later, as we flew over Michigan, Captain Johnson said New York would be the next state we'd be flying over, and told us that the flight attendants would be turning off the lights in the main passenger cabin so as everyone would be able to sleep. As we were in first class, all of the chairs turned into beds so as we wouldn't have stiff necks for when we finally made it off the plane.

I lay down next to Georgie, watching her calm face as she dozed off into a peace-filled dream. I leaned over and kissed her forehead, said a brief goodnight to Dad and Charlotte, and pulled the curtain around us. Lying there in the dark, I thought of my mother. I could just make out her outline in the darkness, and knew that, based on the deep breathing around me, that my family was all asleep.

"Mom?" I said softly to nobody. "Please...I need to know. Is this all okay with you?"

I felt a warm feeling about me then and I knew that it was Mom's own special way of telling me that she approved of Charlotte and wanted Georgie and I to have a wonderful time in Paris.

We awoke the next morning just as Captain Johnson informed us that we were passing over London. I did the math in my head and figured out the rest of the flight time just as he announced it. He informed us that we'd be there for another hour and fifteen minutes, if the clouds stayed out of the way and there wasn't too much turbulence.

I went to the first-class bathroom with my change of clothes for the plane and thanked god that I'd managed to squeeze in a quick shower after the ceremony the day before. I brushed my hair and teeth and put on a new pair of leggings, a blouse, and a sweater, before putting my hair back in a ponytail. Slipping on my boots, I gathered my things and stepped out, running into Dad.

"Hi," I greeted him.

"Good morning." He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "How are you? I would appreciate it if you didn't vomit..."

"Dad, please. It was Mom who got motion sickness. Georgie and I got the 'I don't puke on planes' from your side."

He nodded. "Right. Yeah."

I gave him a nod in return and moved to slip past him.

"Hey, Jenny?"

I turned around. "Yes, Dad?"

"You sure you're okay with all this?"

I felt my eyebrows knit together. That uttered sentence could have multiple meanings. Are you okay with the wedding? Are you okay with me marrying one of your librarians? Are you okay with me not telling you that I was dating one of your librarians? Are you okay with me not telling you that I wasn't dating at all? Are you okay with...everything?

"I'm sorry, Dad. I don't know what you mean," I replied.

"With coming with us on the honeymoon."

"Oh." I hadn't considered that. "Of course. You know of my fascination with Europe and the UK...mostly the UK. Of course it's okay."

He nodded, throwing me a smile as he slipped into the bathroom.

I turned and walked back to my seat, seeing Georgie flipping through a copy of Vanity Fair. Some young blonde woman with massive breasts stood, half leaning, wearing a white dress with a made-up face. "Who's that?" I asked, not even bothering to check the cover for the name as I flopped next to her.

"Kate Upton."

I nodded. "Uh-huh." I peered more closely at her. "Damn...if I was into girls, I'd give her a call..."

Georgie playfully swatted me with the magazine. "You're gross!" she said sarcastically. "I so don't need to hear that!"

I shook my head at her, looking out the window again. I must have dozed off because I was awakened by Captain Johnson saying that we were officially preparing for landing. I pushed up my tray table and watched as Georgie did the same, and we buckled our seatbelts in another quick, mutual movement.

Touching down was easy, due to the winter sun illuminating the runway below us. Finally, we were allowed off the plane, and headed straight to baggage claim. Being in first class granted certain privileges, such as being able to enter and exit the plane first, as well as having your bags being released far more quickly. Georgie, Dad, Charlotte, and I managed to get our bags in good time before heading out of the airport, where we were shocked to see a rented stretch limo to take us to our rented manor just on the outskirts of town.

The stretch limo was complete with a driver, Clarence, who was to be hired and retained by us for the next two weeks. He was a kind, elderly gentleman, and I was immediately reminded of Stanwood. Clarence spoke of his native Scotland and how he came to be a butler—apparently the owner of our rented mansion was his boss—to Sir Charles Lawford. Sir Charles and Lady Kenna frequently spent time in England, as they were close to the royal family, so they were hardly ever home. Charlotte was the first cousin of Lady Kenna, and thus, got us the mansion for free for the next two weeks.

We drove up the park drive and stone walls greeted us on either side of the limo. We drove on cobblestones, the tires bumping ever so slightly as they were not completely even. Rose bushes grew above the stone walls, their barren sticks gazing down upon us, the sun illuminated through them. Turning around a bend, we saw a mighty willow tree as the stone wall proceeded to shorten itself; the long branches of the willow dipped into the lovely pond below it, and I wondered if it was safe—and clean enough—to swim in.

Finally, around a second bend, Georgie and I got a good look at the place. I knew that Charlotte wanted the final outcome of where we were going to stay to be a surprise, and I immediately knew why she had allowed Georgie and me to come along with her and Dad. This place was huge.

It was three floors, including the ground floor, with arched pillars on its bottom floor. A massive, circular door was its entrance, and its building materials consisted of an elegant, tan sandstone. Georgie and I, as soon as we could, darted from the car and proceeded to run about like little girls. It was a funny feeling, feeling so free like that, yet I suddenly felt at peace. We ran about to the other side of the house, finding the massive courtyard in the center of it all, a black iron gate from keeping trespassers at bay, and a second pond in the center of it.

"Girls!" Dad called, a chuckle in the back of his voice. "Come on. Clarence is going to let us in now."

Georgie and I ran back, like small puppies returning to their master. We got our suitcases from the trunk of the limo and followed Clarence as he unlocked the door. He showed us what he described as the 'grand foyer' and introduced the cook, Mrs. Hall, the housekeeper, Mrs. Blake, and the sixteen or so maids that also occupied the house.

I only recalled a few of their names—Ashley, Henrietta, Maxine, Petrova, Jane, Natalie, Katherine, and Renata—before we were ushered through the dining room, banqueting hall, kitchen, living rooms, and finally up the grand staircase towards where the parlors and bedrooms were. Clarence explained that the women's parlor was towards the east and the men's study was to the west before going up a second staircase to show us the bedrooms.

Sir Charles and Lady Kenna had insisted that the master suite go to Dad and Charlotte. It had a California king sized bed, four-posters, and beautiful curtains made from the deepest of black velvets. It had several windows throughout the three rooms it occupied—it had its own parlor, bedroom area, and master bathroom attached to it. Charlotte suggested that she and Dad unpack while Clarence showed us the rest of the rooms. Georgie and I gave each other a knowing glance as we withdrew, following Clarence quickly and hoping that we didn't share a wall with them.

Clarence informed us that Georgie and I would occupy the rooms of Sir Charles's and Lady Kenna's twin daughters, Lucy and Gwen, who were away at the University of Milan studying fashion law and design respectively. Rounding a corner, we came upon Lucy's bedroom first; it was done up in pinks and whites and Georgie knew that this would be her room. Leaving her to explore, Clarence unlocked Gwen's bedroom, which would be mine for the next two weeks. Done up in greens and hues of deep blue, I was quite pleased with the results. I thanked Clarence and he left me to get settled in.

I shut the door and proceeded to look around. Dad and Charlotte's room had begun with a parlor as well, as had Georgie's, and mine. The master suite was done up in fine oak, while Georgie's was done in maple, and mine was done in cherry wood. A flat screen T.V. was placed just to the left of the white marble hearth, and a plush, Victorian couch was placed center stage of the small parlor which was the first room of my borrowed suite.

I slowly walked into the next room—not wanting to miss a moment of this gorgeous architecture—and placed my suitcase upon the queen-sized bed. The duvet was a lovely hunter green color and had matching green velvet curtains. It was a four-poster bed, just like Dad and Charlotte's, and was all done up in cherry wood.

I walked towards the windows and pulled the gold chord which covered them, allowing the winter sun to stream into my bedroom. Looking down, I saw the willow tree and the pond off to one side, and the courtyard and the second pond towards the right. Looking down dead center, came the full view of the rose gardens, just on the other side of the courtyard.

Turning away, and leaving the curtains open, I walked into what was to be my bathroom. The tiled floor was all done up in white, and it had a two-person shower, as well as a claw-footed bathtub. The two-person sink implied something I knew not what, and it had a floor-length mirror all done up in gold on the other side of the room. A ceiling to floor window graced the side with the mirror, and showed off the other view of the courtyard. A skylight was just above the shower, and another ceiling to floor window was across from the bathtub, giving whoever was bathing a view of the grounds of the manor, as well as a glimpse of what I knew was the English Channel.

A tap upon the door came then and I walked from the bathroom, out from the bedroom, and opened the door in the front parlor. Charlotte stood there, smiling at me. Her face was slightly flushed, and I did not want to even begin to guess what she and Dad had been doing.

She began cordially enough, asking me if I was settling in all right and if there was anything I needed.

I told her that I was fine, and asked if she was all right.

Charlotte grinned at that. "My dear friend, Lady Eleanor Berkshire, has invited us to a grand soiree tonight at her mansion," she cried.

My eyebrows came together then. "If she's your dear friend, then why wasn't she at the wedding?" I asked.

"Eleanor works for UNICEF," Charlotte explained, almost as if it didn't matter that someone apparently so close to her had missed such an important day in her life. "She was in Somalia with some orphans, getting food and supplies for them. She just established a school for the 'disabled children over there, and got them all some high-quality laptops. They all suffer from major diseases because of their lack of good medical care. That is why she couldn't come to the wedding, sweetheart."

"Oh." Suddenly, my argument seemed...off.

"So, the soiree is this evening at her mansion in Rouen. Your father and Georgie are ecstatic."

I nodded. "Sounds like fun. One thing..."

"Yes?" Charlotte asked.

"I read that, in some cases, that people above the age of sixteen can drink in France..."

Charlotte chuckled. "If you're asking if you can drink, I don't mind, as long as your father doesn't mind, and if it is only a little."

I nodded. "All right," I said as she slipped off to get ready for whatever a soiree was...