The House on Blackberry Hill: Jewell Cove #1 (Jewel Cove) Read Free Page B

down in the basement for a simple jar of jelly had felt like a penance.
    The uneasy feeling she’d had touching the door was even stronger as she crossed the hall, pausing to look up the grand staircase. She shivered, cold again, as her gaze settled on the upper landing. Abby knew she was being ridiculous, but something about the staircase unnerved her and made the little hairs on the back of her neck rise with apprehension. She shook her head and tried to laugh, the sound mocking in the silence. This was foolish. There was nothing there. Maybe the queer sensation was simply because the house was so huge and, well, quiet. Everything echoed, even the sound of her breathing. It wasn’t the sort of house meant for one person. It was meant for parties and socializing, with men in dashing suits and women in long dresses. For the popping of champagne bottles and maids in white aprons serving canapés off silver platters.
    Shaking off the heavy feeling, she entered the room beside the stairs, her uneasiness evaporating as her mouth dropped open in wonderment and delight.
    Tattered or not, the old room was gorgeous. There were solid mahogany cases on each wall crammed full of old books, their spines faded and dusty. Their dark width was broken only by the dirt-smudged windows looking out over the vast gardens and peeking into what had to be an added-on sun porch at the back of the house. The drapes were faded and dirty but had once been a marvelous wine-and-tan-striped brocade.
    She stepped into the center of the room, completely enchanted. In addition to the bookcases there was a gorgeous rolltop desk and a sewing table next to a pair of stuffed armchairs. And yes, another fireplace, backing on the same wall as the one in the drawing room. The walls that were visible were goldeny yellow, like burnt sugar. The color set off wide white trim and wainscot. The dark cherry hardwood floor was utterly stunning—or had been. It was quite scarred after years of use. But in its heyday …
    It was the first room she’d visited that felt anything like a home. She could imagine herself curled up in one of those chairs with a Jane Austen novel and a pot of tea, a fire blazing in the fireplace …
    She turned herself around in a circle, gave a huge, contented sigh, and choked on a puff of dust stirred up by her movement.
    The romanticism of the moment was shattered by the harsh sound of her coughing as she doubled over, effectively raising an even bigger cloud. She was a fool to let herself be seduced, even for a moment.
    The coughing fit eased and she gasped for air, holding herself very, very still to keep from disturbing more dust. She wasn’t sure how long this place had been locked up, but Marian’s lawyer had mentioned something about a few years. Considering the grime and neglect she’d witnessed just on the first floor, she’d guess it was closer to “several” rather than “a few.”
    But despite the dirt and grime, the library was glorious. She could almost smell the redolent tang of cigar smoke, the bite of brandy mingled with the scent of leather and paper and ink. She closed her eyes, imagining for a moment what it must have been like during the glory days. Another time and place.
    She opened her eyes, watched a mouse scurry into the corner and raised an eyebrow. Rodents and God knew what else were not romantic. The mouse disappeared behind a wing chair and she sighed. In reality she knew that this was just a room. What she needed to do was stop daydreaming and find the name of the nearest pest control company. So much for being in and out of Jewell Cove within a few days. Her first order of business was going to be looking into contractors. And to do that she was going to need either the yellow pages or an Internet connection—neither of which could be found at her current location.
    A crash followed by the sound of muffled yet spectacular swearing from the front of the house propelled Abby out of her thoughts and sent