The car wound its way through the misty countryside, the tires crunching softly on the gravel road. Ancient oaks loomed overhead, their twisted branches swaying slightly in the cool morning breeze. In the back, the conversation flowed in a mix of curiosity and nerves.
"Do you really think the Ashwells will be friendly?" asked Isabella, her fingers tapping anxiously on her lap.
"I've heard stories," said Christian, leaning back in her seat, "that they're extremely particular. Everything about their events has to be perfect—down to the tiniest detail. But strict doesn't mean unkind. They just… expect a lot from their guests."
"I hope we don't make a bad impression," whispered Leo. "What if they judge us?"
"Relax," Christian smiled. "The important thing is that we were invited. That already says a lot—they wouldn't invite someone they didn't want there."
The driver, an older man with a calm demeanor, glanced at them through the rearview mirror. "You'll see soon enough. The Ashwells value manners and appearance, but they also like warmth. They don't want stiff, uncomfortable guests. Just… be yourselves, but polished."
"And the hotel?" Isabella asked. "Are they staying there themselves, or do we get rooms nearby?"
I've been told," the driver replied, "that a few rooms have been reserved in a small manor just a short walk from the mansion. Most guests will stay on the estate itself, but only the closest friends and family. The rest will have accommodations nearby."
Leo leaned toward the window, peering at the mist-covered gardens and the faint outline of fountains. "What will we even get to see? Is it just the mansion or the gardens too?"
"Oh, everything," Christian said, her eyes lighting up. "The mansion, of course—the grand hall, the old library, the drawing rooms. The gardens are spectacular, designed in the traditional Ashwell style, with hidden paths, fountains, and sculptures tucked between flowering hedges. And I heard they even have a private gallery, where centuries of family portraits are displayed."
"Why were we invited, though?" Isabella asked quietly. "It's not like we're part of the family…"
"The Ashwells are very selective," Christian explained. "They only invite people who matter in some way—friends, close acquaintances, or those who are helping organize parts of the wedding. Think of it as both a social and a practical reason. You'll notice they're watching everyone closely, gauging how guests interact. It's a way of maintaining their traditions while also including those who are important to them."
Leo shivered slightly, excitement mixed with nerves. "And the wedding itself?" he asked. "Will it be… extravagant?"
"You could say that," the driver replied with a small smile. "Formal, traditional, with grand decorations and live music. The ceremony will be held in the old chapel on the grounds, a place that's been part of the family for generations. But don't expect it to be predictable. The Ashwells love surprises—unusual touches, unexpected performances, maybe even secret garden paths for private vows. Nothing is ever ordinary here."
As the car rounded the final bend, the mansion emerged from the fog like a ghost from another era. Its towering spires and sweeping terraces seemed almost unreal, silhouetted against the pale morning sky. The siblings exchanged quiet, awed glances, the reality of the invitation finally settling in.
"Wow," Leo breathed. "It's… massive."
"Impressive," Isabella added, her earlier anxiety giving way to wonder. "I've never seen anything like it."
Christian chuckled softly. "And this is just the beginning. Wait until you see the inside—and meet the hosts themselves. That's when things really start to feel… alive."
The car slowed as they approached the grand entrance. The gates, wrought iron and gilded with subtle gold accents, opened with a slow, deliberate creak. Beyond them, the long drive stretched toward the mansion's main doors, flanked by stone lions and perfectly trimmed hedges. The air seemed to hum with anticipation—an unspoken promise that this wedding, like the Ashwell family itself, would be unforgettable.