The Dollhouse Society Volume IV: Lucky (Includes Lady Luck, House of Dolls, The Reluctant Bride, A Woman on Top, plus a bonus story!) by Eden Myles Page B
Authors: Eden Myles
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business.”
“ Yes,” Tiberius answered drolly. “I’m sure.”
“ I don’t think I understand,” I told him, mystified by his sudden turn of behavior. “He is a solicitor from New York. He could be of great use to us, especially at the stock exchange! And poor Darcy is already put upon at his firm, handling most of Mr. Smit’s workload the way he is…”
Tiberius looked out the window and watched the countryside pass. “Are you sure that’s all he’s interested in?”
“ Yes, of course. What else is there?”
“ Oh Lucky.”
I despised the way he said that, treating me like some ignorant child! Thankfully, it was only a short while before we turned off on a private road that cut in a wending, snakelike path through a forest of thick fir trees. I leaned out the window and breathed in the stinging, piney night air as we came upon the house.
It was large and grand, a British colonial mansion called Hampton House, if my history of regional architecture was not mistaken. It had been constructed more than a hundred years ago by the Colonial, Jeremiah Hampton, but unlike most colonial homes, the house looked more decadent than functional. Then again, if I recalled my history of the region correctly, Goodman Hampton, a neophyte and follower of the teachings of the Marquis de Sade, had been known to have a predilection for decadence…and many loose women. The Dollhouse was stone-faced, with enormous windows, tall Corinthian columns, and a grand balcony that stretched the whole width of the front. “Who owns it?” I asked. It looked like the house of a dispossessed lord.
“ We do,” Tiberius said.
“ What do you mean?”
“ All of the members of the Society own shares in the Dollhouse. It belongs to all of us,” he explained as the coach carried us up the cobblestone path to the carriage house, where two footmen waited.
I thought about that, and I thought about what he had said about my father and mother. “Does that mean that my father owned a part of the Dollhouse?” I asked. “You said he was part of the Society.”
“ He was. But the Dollhouse doesn’t function that way. It only belongs to those who are still alive, people like me…and you. Those who might enjoy it. That was part of Jeremiah Hampton’s legacy. He was a very wealthy, decadent and generous man who freely offered his home for use by the Society, but only with the stipulation that the Society, as a whole, own and care for it.”
What an unusual setup! I slid back in the window as we came to a full stop and contemplated how one “enjoyed” a Society. Most of the women’s groups I knew were quite dull, full of tea, quilts and recyclable gossip, and the men’s groups didn’t seem much better.
As Tiberius handed me down from the carriage, he said, “In many ways, the Society is in your blood, Lucky. In time, you may even come to enjoy it as your father and mother had.”
“ Do you enjoy it?” I asked.
“ Sometimes,” he said. “And sometimes I find it depressing.” He didn’t elaborate further.
The inside of the Dollhouse was just as grand as the exterior, decorated in the latest and most fashionable Shaker furnishings and petit point fabrics. The anteroom we entered was full of gentlemen in evening wear mulling about as if they were attending a soiree, though, curiously enough, I saw no women. Tiberius walked me through the thong, under the burning lights of the three, grand, lit chandeliers, keeping one hand on my forearm at all times. I blushed appropriately as the other men turned their eyes on me, fully expecting the horror of their expressions—the scandal that Lucky Van der Meer should be seen without escort on the arm of her business partner! And truthfully, I felt a bit of a thrill knowing I was acting so improperly. But they glanced over us, smiled or tipped their hats in greeting, and then went back to whatever conversation they were engaged in.
“ You were right,” I told Tiberius. “They don’t
“ Yes,” Tiberius answered drolly. “I’m sure.”
“ I don’t think I understand,” I told him, mystified by his sudden turn of behavior. “He is a solicitor from New York. He could be of great use to us, especially at the stock exchange! And poor Darcy is already put upon at his firm, handling most of Mr. Smit’s workload the way he is…”
Tiberius looked out the window and watched the countryside pass. “Are you sure that’s all he’s interested in?”
“ Yes, of course. What else is there?”
“ Oh Lucky.”
I despised the way he said that, treating me like some ignorant child! Thankfully, it was only a short while before we turned off on a private road that cut in a wending, snakelike path through a forest of thick fir trees. I leaned out the window and breathed in the stinging, piney night air as we came upon the house.
It was large and grand, a British colonial mansion called Hampton House, if my history of regional architecture was not mistaken. It had been constructed more than a hundred years ago by the Colonial, Jeremiah Hampton, but unlike most colonial homes, the house looked more decadent than functional. Then again, if I recalled my history of the region correctly, Goodman Hampton, a neophyte and follower of the teachings of the Marquis de Sade, had been known to have a predilection for decadence…and many loose women. The Dollhouse was stone-faced, with enormous windows, tall Corinthian columns, and a grand balcony that stretched the whole width of the front. “Who owns it?” I asked. It looked like the house of a dispossessed lord.
“ We do,” Tiberius said.
“ What do you mean?”
“ All of the members of the Society own shares in the Dollhouse. It belongs to all of us,” he explained as the coach carried us up the cobblestone path to the carriage house, where two footmen waited.
I thought about that, and I thought about what he had said about my father and mother. “Does that mean that my father owned a part of the Dollhouse?” I asked. “You said he was part of the Society.”
“ He was. But the Dollhouse doesn’t function that way. It only belongs to those who are still alive, people like me…and you. Those who might enjoy it. That was part of Jeremiah Hampton’s legacy. He was a very wealthy, decadent and generous man who freely offered his home for use by the Society, but only with the stipulation that the Society, as a whole, own and care for it.”
What an unusual setup! I slid back in the window as we came to a full stop and contemplated how one “enjoyed” a Society. Most of the women’s groups I knew were quite dull, full of tea, quilts and recyclable gossip, and the men’s groups didn’t seem much better.
As Tiberius handed me down from the carriage, he said, “In many ways, the Society is in your blood, Lucky. In time, you may even come to enjoy it as your father and mother had.”
“ Do you enjoy it?” I asked.
“ Sometimes,” he said. “And sometimes I find it depressing.” He didn’t elaborate further.
The inside of the Dollhouse was just as grand as the exterior, decorated in the latest and most fashionable Shaker furnishings and petit point fabrics. The anteroom we entered was full of gentlemen in evening wear mulling about as if they were attending a soiree, though, curiously enough, I saw no women. Tiberius walked me through the thong, under the burning lights of the three, grand, lit chandeliers, keeping one hand on my forearm at all times. I blushed appropriately as the other men turned their eyes on me, fully expecting the horror of their expressions—the scandal that Lucky Van der Meer should be seen without escort on the arm of her business partner! And truthfully, I felt a bit of a thrill knowing I was acting so improperly. But they glanced over us, smiled or tipped their hats in greeting, and then went back to whatever conversation they were engaged in.
“ You were right,” I told Tiberius. “They don’t
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