House of Pleasure, Deborah Court [great books of all time TXT] 📗

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