"Lovely, isn't it?" the lawyer said, contemplatively. "It's a classic Queen Anne style. Look at the tower's "witches' hat" roof, this is typical. Alva Greenebaum, one of your ancestors, built it in 1881, after the early demise of her husband, a wealthy merchant. She was said to love this house, so much that she hardly ever left it. Same as your late aunt, Beatrice. Most often women of your family lived alone here, either widows, or … " He cleared his throat. "Well, at the time they were called bluestockings."
Jane laughed. "Women who were 'left on the shelf' and didn't find a husband? Well, Mr. Conrad, are you sure there isn't a curse on this house? I am still hoping that I'll find a decent guy to marry some day and start a family with him. Or would you consider me a bluestocking, at twenty-five?" She blinked at him innocently.
Mr. Conrad looked shocked, and quickly placed an assuring hand on her arm. "Dear Miss Eden, of course not! Forgive an old man his foolish ramblings about the past. I only wanted to say that the opulent interior appeals particularly to women. I think it would be the perfect place for a young family to live in. I'm glad that your aunt left you enough money to maintain the house and make changes, according to your own needs and wishes. It would have been sad for me to see that financial circumstances forced you to sell it. This way, the inheritance stays in the family as it should."
Jane smiled. "I was only joking, Mr. Conrad. The house is beautiful, and I'm feeling very privileged to take over my family's heirloom. It's a pity that you didn't know my aunt very well. I'd love to hear more about her. What was she like?"
To her surprise, the elderly gentleman blushed deeply, up to the roots of his snowy-white hair. For the first time, she realized that he must have been a handsome man when he was younger. And probably he hadn't told her the whole truth when he had claimed not to have known Beatrice.
"Well, I paid her a few visits after she had settled down here and needed a lawyer," he said, averting his eyes. "I can only say that back in my time, she was one of the most beautiful and charismatic women I'd ever met. Many men proposed to her, yet she never felt the need to marry again. I paid Bea … Mrs. Eden a few visits when she had just settled down here as a young widow. She needed some legal advice." He blushed even deeper, convincing Jane that he surely had been in love with her aunt.
"She really wasn't a recluse back then," Mr. Conrad continued. "True, she didn't leave the house often. She seemed to be content just being at home, and her servants fulfilled her every wish and whim so there was no necessity to go out. She told me once that the house made her happier than ever before in her life. But she often entertained guests here, dinner parties and musical events. I had the pleasure of being invited to several of those … events," he finished, still avoiding Jane's gaze. Clearing his throat, he added, "Of course, this was long before I met my lovely wife."
Suddenly, he seemed to be restless, and looked impatiently at his watch. "I am so sorry, Miss Eden, but I need to be in time for an important appointment. Would you mind letting yourself in? Your housekeeper, Mrs. Allan, has kept the house in pristine shape since your dear aunt's demise. She told me that everything was ready for your arrival, and that she'd meet you tomorrow." He gave Jane a large, old-fashioned key and took her hand in his, shaking it gently.
"Welcome to your new home," he said. "I sincerely hope you'll enjoy being here, Miss Eden. Should you require my help with anything, let me know. I left my business card on the table of the morning room, along with a personal letter your aunt wrote for you when she discovered she was terminally ill. I am positive that you'll be as happy here as she was," he concluded more formally before helping her carry her baggage up the white steps, to the front porch. Then he left in a hurry, with an embarrassed look on his face that told Jane that he was concealing something from her. A secret love affair with her aunt, possibly?
When she turned the key in the old lock, it moved effortlessly, and the door swung open. Gasping, she took in the sight of the luxurious entrance hall, with its white marble floor and the elegant staircase that led to the upper stories of the house. The first landing featured a stained glass window depicting a medieval woman who rested in a forest clearing with a unicorn, holding the mythical creature's head in her lap. A large vase with fresh flowers from the garden greeted her, doubtless put out by the housekeeper.
Remembering that in Victorian mansions the reception rooms would be upstairs while the kitchen and servants' work rooms were on the ground floor, she left her suitcases standing in the hallway and slowly went up the stairs, feeling slightly out of place in her jeans and long-sleeved university sweater. Turning to the left, she entered a beautiful room, completely decorated in white and yellow. For a moment, she lingered at the fireplace, looking at a black-and-white photograph on the mantle.
It showed a beautiful dark-haired woman in a flowery summer dress, standing in front of the house. There was no one else in the picture, but the woman seemed to be perfectly happy, flashing a bright smile at the
