on the balcony was originally imported from England, but it's been restored and repainted in the last decade."
I practically drooled. The house was gorgeous. The entry foyer was impressive by itself, but the formal living room onto which it opened was like something out of an English film.
A huge marble fireplace was set against a backdrop of Australian Colonial cedar features, cedar ceilings, mellow Huon pine floorboards, original cedar windows and cedar doors. French doors opened onto a garden of lavenders and old English roses and their heavy scent filled the air.
As we walked around the house, the realtor pointed out the marble fireplace in the master bedroom, the walk in robe, and the luxurious en-suite bathroom with a stunning roll top bath. The place could have been straight out of an issue of Vogue Living . The realtor led me through textbook late Georgian, Australian country house architecture. The rooms were filled with expensive art, but very little in the way of antiques. The last room the realtor showed me was the study.
"All the house is original with the exception of the study, but period features have been replicated to make it in keeping with the rest of the house." He opened the door to let me go in. I almost couldn't. The atmosphere of the room left me for a moment frozen to the spot.
The realtor walked past me and continued his sales pitch. "Of course, you have to look past the seller's personal touches and imagine the room with your own personal taste. David Crawley travels extensively and has a collection of religious curios, mostly from Africa."
I recognized some of the curios from articles I had researched and written for the magazine, in particular the art of the Yoruba region of south-western Nigeria and neighboring Benin and Togo: the conical bead crown and beaded slippers, and the beaded fly whisk, all showing the interlace and the zigzag patterns. There were three frontal faces with marks under the eyes. One had the representation of two snakes eating each other, signifying the cycle of life.
I walked over to the bead crown hanging just next to the door and peered at a tiny white bird a tiny with a long tail. Perhaps the room wasn't warded after all; all the spiritual curios would give off some sort of power.
I was so engrossed that I didn't see the man enter. The realtor's jaw hardened. "Mr. Crawley, I have not finished the viewing, as you can see."
I spun around and automatically shook the outstretched hand.
"Hello, allow me to continue the inspection. I'm the owner, David Crawley. I'll call you later, Tom. Please show yourself out."
Tom, the realtor, stormed out, looking none too pleased at being so rudely dismissed. Perhaps he thought David Crowley would sell the place to me direct and not pay him his commission.
"You like African art?"
"Yes I do; I was just admiring your collection."
He followed my gaze. "That bird is okin , the king of birds. Birds are very important in Yoruba art. That there is the Orere Staff, and as you can it has two birds on the top of it. You often find just one bird on top of Orere Staffs. They're associated with divination. Are you interested in buying the house?"
I hesitated, a bit thrown by the sudden change in topic. What to say? I decided to abandon the deception.
"No, I'm terribly sorry. I'm a journalist for a paranormal magazine. I'm in Morpeth for the week working on a story about the Morpeth ghosts."
Crawley's energy shifted, and then he was again masked. I was relieved to see that he wasn't angry. In fact, he laughed. "Then you would be most interested in my collection. But tell me, why my house?"
Shadows from the garden played across the wall in shifting patterns as I again decided what to say. Put on the spot, I again went for the truth. "My editor wants me to research the treasure."
"Treasure, what treasure?" David Crawley raised one eyebrow over a deep blue eye. He was a little too old for my liking, but he was nevertheless quite
I practically drooled. The house was gorgeous. The entry foyer was impressive by itself, but the formal living room onto which it opened was like something out of an English film.
A huge marble fireplace was set against a backdrop of Australian Colonial cedar features, cedar ceilings, mellow Huon pine floorboards, original cedar windows and cedar doors. French doors opened onto a garden of lavenders and old English roses and their heavy scent filled the air.
As we walked around the house, the realtor pointed out the marble fireplace in the master bedroom, the walk in robe, and the luxurious en-suite bathroom with a stunning roll top bath. The place could have been straight out of an issue of Vogue Living . The realtor led me through textbook late Georgian, Australian country house architecture. The rooms were filled with expensive art, but very little in the way of antiques. The last room the realtor showed me was the study.
"All the house is original with the exception of the study, but period features have been replicated to make it in keeping with the rest of the house." He opened the door to let me go in. I almost couldn't. The atmosphere of the room left me for a moment frozen to the spot.
The realtor walked past me and continued his sales pitch. "Of course, you have to look past the seller's personal touches and imagine the room with your own personal taste. David Crawley travels extensively and has a collection of religious curios, mostly from Africa."
I recognized some of the curios from articles I had researched and written for the magazine, in particular the art of the Yoruba region of south-western Nigeria and neighboring Benin and Togo: the conical bead crown and beaded slippers, and the beaded fly whisk, all showing the interlace and the zigzag patterns. There were three frontal faces with marks under the eyes. One had the representation of two snakes eating each other, signifying the cycle of life.
I walked over to the bead crown hanging just next to the door and peered at a tiny white bird a tiny with a long tail. Perhaps the room wasn't warded after all; all the spiritual curios would give off some sort of power.
I was so engrossed that I didn't see the man enter. The realtor's jaw hardened. "Mr. Crawley, I have not finished the viewing, as you can see."
I spun around and automatically shook the outstretched hand.
"Hello, allow me to continue the inspection. I'm the owner, David Crawley. I'll call you later, Tom. Please show yourself out."
Tom, the realtor, stormed out, looking none too pleased at being so rudely dismissed. Perhaps he thought David Crowley would sell the place to me direct and not pay him his commission.
"You like African art?"
"Yes I do; I was just admiring your collection."
He followed my gaze. "That bird is okin , the king of birds. Birds are very important in Yoruba art. That there is the Orere Staff, and as you can it has two birds on the top of it. You often find just one bird on top of Orere Staffs. They're associated with divination. Are you interested in buying the house?"
I hesitated, a bit thrown by the sudden change in topic. What to say? I decided to abandon the deception.
"No, I'm terribly sorry. I'm a journalist for a paranormal magazine. I'm in Morpeth for the week working on a story about the Morpeth ghosts."
Crawley's energy shifted, and then he was again masked. I was relieved to see that he wasn't angry. In fact, he laughed. "Then you would be most interested in my collection. But tell me, why my house?"
Shadows from the garden played across the wall in shifting patterns as I again decided what to say. Put on the spot, I again went for the truth. "My editor wants me to research the treasure."
"Treasure, what treasure?" David Crawley raised one eyebrow over a deep blue eye. He was a little too old for my liking, but he was nevertheless quite
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