House of Pleasure

by Deborah Court

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  About the Author

  Preview "Bound by Magic"

  Deborah Court

  House of Pleasure

  Copyright Page

  House of Pleasure. Copyright © 2011 by Deborah Court. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book contains explicit adult content and is not suitable for anyone who is under the legal age limit.

  Special thanks to my friend and editor, writer Lynette Sofras, who has been a great help and source of learning on my constant voyage to improve as a writer. Check out her entertaining blog at http://manicscribbler.blogspot.com, and her latest book, "The Apple Tree", here.

  Visit the author's blog

  http://deborahcourt.blogspot.com

  and website

  http://www.deborahcourt.com

  You can contact me by e-mail at deborahcourt.writer@googlemail.com

  I love to hear from readers!

  *****

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  About the Author

  Preview "Bound by Magic"

  Chapter One

  When Jane Eden inherited an old house on the outskirts of Boston, she was speechless with surprise. Having lost her parents in a car accident at an early age, she was adopted by a middle-aged couple who had loved her as much as if she had been their own child. In fact, she was happy enough that it never occurred to her to search for members of her real family, even when she had moved out and left for college.

  Having achieved a degree in English literature, she was eager to get a job and move into another city. She had no other family than her parents, and no boyfriend. Apart from several heated affairs, she had never met a man whom she cared enough about to stay with, so she was as free as a bird when she received the letter from the Boston lawyer, Conrad & West.

  Dear Ms. Eden,

  As an old family friend and legal representative of your recently deceased aunt, Beatrice Eden, I would like to start this letter by offering my heartfelt condolences for your loss.

  It will be of interest to you to know that you are your aunt’s sole heir and beneficiary as, at her demise, she was unmarried and without other dependents. Subject to the usual checks, I can therefore confirm that you will inherit your aunt’s fortune, and her house in Boston.

  Please contact my legal office at your earliest convenience to discuss the terms of your aunt’s legacy. The attached form sets out the documents legally required to confirm your eligibility for this inheritance.

  With kind regards and once again, please accept my sincere condolences on your loss.

  Yours etc

  John Conrad

  She never even knew that she had an aunt! Why hadn't she taken Jane in when her parents had died; surely she must have known that they had a now-orphaned child? Maybe she'd thought about it, and had developed a bad conscience when she grew old. Probably that was why she had passed the house on to Jane.

  Shrugging, Jane dismissed those thoughts. It was far too late to grieve now for a relative she'd never known.

  Besides, she still had to pay back her college loans. A bit of extra money would allow her to look for a job she'd really like, instead of accepting the first offer just because she was broke. Right now, she simply couldn't afford false pride. She would accept her Aunt Beatrice's inheritance.

  Two weeks later she was in Boston, with three suitcases of clothes and a carton containing her most precious belongings. She was ready to begin her new life, in a house of her own - no matter how old and crumbly it was. Mr. Conrad met her at the airport and, after taking her to his office for some final signatures, told her how large the fortune she had inherited actually was. Jane paled visibly. The lawyer chuckled.

  "That's right, Miss Eden," he said. "You are a very wealthy woman now. You'll never have to work again, unless you want to."

  Jane asked him about her aunt, but he said that he had only met Beatrice on rare occasions. She had been a beautiful and intelligent woman, but also a recluse in her later years, hardly ever leaving her house. Before her death, it had been her fondest wish that it would be entailed to the last living female member of her family, Jane. Mr. Conrad also told her that apparently there had been some argument between Jane's father and his older sister. Beatrice had regretted not adopting her niece until her death. Obviously, she had given her the inheritance to make amends.

  Mr. Conrad had insisted on bringing Jane to her new home personally, and they had just reached the well-kept suburbs in which the house was located. Jane gasped at the sight of the luxurious neighborhood, but the lawyer simply laughed. That was when she began to have serious doubts about the house being small and cozy, the way one imagined a late aunt's home would be. However, she didn't really care.

  It was her house, and she loved it already, without even having seen it with her own eyes.

  *****

  "Mr. Conrad, I think you misled me on purpose," Jane said, climbing out of the black Mercedes. Frozen in her tracks, she just stood and stared up to the intimidating silhouette of the majestic three-storie Victorian mansion that rose before her. It looked as if several owners had added their contributions to the architecture. The house featured varied styles of shingles and siding, prominent twin gables, and a turreted corner tower that looked as if a fairy tale princess might live in it. Suddenly she had a strange feeling, as if the house was watching her. Involuntarily the thought came to her mind that it had been here for a long time, waiting for her arrival.

  "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 circ
umstances 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 unknown photographer. For a moment Jane hesitated, noticing that her aunt's features seemed strangely familiar to her. After a moment, she shook her head, releasing the thought. She had never met her aunt after she'd been adopted. When Jane took the silver frame from the mantle and turned it around, she read the line someone had written on the back: "Beatrice Eden, 1957".

  Jane let her fingers run over the picture, wondering what kind of woman her aunt had been. Sadly it was too late now to get to know her, so she might never know. As her gaze fell over to the elegant coffee table, she saw a file of documents the lawyer had left for her. Determined not to brood over the past for too long, she sat down at the table and went through her papers. Everything seemed to be in order - her now well-filled bank account, the legal documents granting her ownership of the house, letters, insurance policies. Then she detected a letter at the bottom of the pile and quickly opened the envelope. The handwriting was definitely female; the ink was blurred in some places as if … the writer had cried, Jane concluded to herself.

  Dear Jane,

  May I call you by your given name? I know that I lost the right to call myself your aunt long ago, when I failed in my duties as the last member of your family. Today I know that I should have adopted you and treated you as if you were my own child. But I admit that I never was the motherly type, and at the time I was too engrossed in my own exciting life to be a good mother to you.

  I knew that I wouldn't have given you the attention you needed, so the best I could do was make sure that you'd grow up with the best, most loving parents I could find for you. And I think you fared well with them, judging from the regular visits I paid to your home when you were a child. According to my own wishes, your parents never told you who I was.

  Jane gasped. Now she remembered. Maybe once in every year or two, an elegant lady had come to the house of her adoptive parents, visiting them for a couple of hours. They had called her "Mrs. Winter," and claimed that she organized charity bazaars with her mom. She had been very kind to Jane, bringing her lovely toys and treating her as if she was an equal. And she had always asked about school and her friends, and had insisted on visiting Jane's room. So Aunt Beatrice had been nearer to her than she thought! Quickly, she read on.

  Knowing that you were safe, happy, and well cared for, I could lead my life as I wanted, free from any obligation. My husband had died early, and although he left me the house and a good fortune, he never loved me. My parents had forced me to marry him since he was one of the most wealthy men in town, and he wanted me because he intended to marry into one of the old, prestigious Boston families. He was much older than me, and I never knew real love in my marriage. When I failed to produce him a child, he started to mistreat me, and even threatened to divorce me, which at that time would have meant total ruin and a life in poverty, for my father would have disowned me. So I endured and when he passed away two years later, I finally had a life, and swore never to be controlled by any man again.

  I was happy with the path I chose. I knew love many times, but never did I shackle myself to a husband, valuing my freedom over all other things.

  Not finding the courage in me to take you in, my child, is the only thing I've ever regretted in my life. I only realized how much you meant to me after years had passed, and you seemed to be so happy with your new family. At that time, it was too late. I would have to be a heartless monster to take you away from your loving parents then. But with every visit, it hurt more to see you, being near you without ever having the opportunity to tell you who I was. It would have been too painful to us all, so at some point I stopped visiting, finding it easier to stay away. However, I was always there, watching you from afar. Once a year, I hired a private detective who kept me informed about you, so I always knew that you had a good life.

  Well aware that I'll leave this world very soon, I ask for your forgiveness. Now, my child, the only thing that I can do for you is leave you all that I own on this earth - hoping that it will grant you the freedom to choose whatever life you wish for yourself.

  This house is a very special place. It unites old power and magic to fulfill the most secret fantasies of the woman who lives here. It has always been that way, with every female owner of the house. So the usual rules of society, morals
and relationships are not valid here; you are able to do whatever you want - no regrets, no risks to your health, no worries about the consequences. You can travel to the most exotic places, and even to another time. Whatever you wish, it will happen. The normal rules of the universe don't apply here. If you should desire a certain man, whoever he might be, the house will bring him to you, and he will be your devoted lover for as long as you wish him to be, worshipping the ground beneath your feet.

  But be careful. Don't ever give your heart to a man, or the house's magic will be lost to you forever. This is the only condition. This house loves its owner. It's like a living creature that only exists to please and serve you while it can get jealous if you're starting to get too involved with someone. It happened to me once when I started to fall in love with one of my lovers - a young lawyer, John Conrad. I am sure you'll have met him by now.

  The house made me choose, and I decided to stay here, ending the affair before I could get too emotional about it. Considering my unhappy marriage, this condition was easy for me to fulfill. I wanted to be alone, so the arrangement was perfect for me. I'm not so sure about you, a young woman who will most likely fall in love at some point. But it will be your decision alone.

  Good-bye, Jane. I'll be in a happier place when you read this, so be merry and enjoy your new home. If you have a wish, simply speak it out loud. You will be surprised, I promise.

  With love,

  Beatrice

  Jane dropped the letter to the table and stared out of the window into the garden. It was as beautiful as the house, and well-kept. She had no doubt that Aunt Beatrice had spent far too much time here. Obviously she'd been a very lonely woman who got a bit strange in her later years; yet her letter seemed to be written by someone who had a very quick and sharp mind.