Ellie turned to her father. "This is your house?" Her eyes wandered around the massive structure.
"Our house, Ellie. Our home." He replied, patting her head.
The older man stood in front of Ellie. "Welcome, Miss Eleanor. I am Mr. Hall, the butler of the estate. It is my pleasure to meet you finally."
He sounded like her father, posh and refined. His white shirt was immaculately tucked in. His balding head didn't take away from his elegance.
Ellie nodded. "Um… pleasure to meet you too." She tugged her father's hand. "How is this your house?"
"It was your grandfather's. I inherited it after he passed."
"Are you like a Duke or something?"
"No, there has been some nobility in the family in the past, but our family owns film production companies and real estate." He smiled. "Your grandmother was a lady."
"A lady?"
"Her mother was a countess." Mr. Hall added.
Before she could process anything further, another man stepped forward—taller, younger, wearing a chef's uniform with rolled sleeves, revealing tanned forearms. His dark hair had streaks of pink and blue.
"Hello, young missie," He grinned. His voice had a southern thing to it.
"You're American"
"Yep, like you," He laughed. "I'm Liam, the head chef. What should I make for your first meal here? I make killer hamburgers. If you are feeling adventurous…" he said, wiggling his eyebrows. "Frog legs"
Ellie blinked, caught off guard by his passion.
"Uh… waffles?"
Liam sighed. "Basic… but, okay! I make a mean stack of waffles. Traveled to Belgium last year and learned from a chef, his family recipe, chef's kiss.
You like them sweet or fruity?"
"Sweet."
"With syrup? Or Sugar"
"Syrup."
"Got it!" Liam chuckled. "I'll have them ready in no time." With that, he turned and disappeared into the house, calling some of the staff with him.
The other members of staff introduced themselves, and she met the gardeners, housekeepers, and security.
"The sous chefs went with Liam. You'll meet them during breakfast."
"You have a lot of people here."
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "It's a big house."
"Sir, you have a call," Jonathan said, handing her father a phone.
"Ellie…"He paused. "I need to go to the office, I…"
"It's okay dad, I'll be fine."
Her father turned to Mr. Hall.
"I would take utmost care of the young miss," Mr. Hall inserted before her father said anything.
"All right then."
Ellie watched the car disappear out of the gate. Nervousness crept up on her.
"Let's get you settled in." Mr. Hall said, bringing her out of her reprieve.
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Inside was just as magnificent as the outside, with high ceilings, wide windows draped with vintage curtains. A Crystal chandelier cast a soft, warm light over the polished marble, her sneakers squeaking as she walked in, breaking the silence.
"Em.. sorry for the noise," Ellie said, looking down at her feet.
"It is the floors that are too polished." Mr. Hall replied."The bedrooms are up here." He led her up the sweeping staircase with dark wooden banisters, covered in a rich dark carpet with gold trimmings.
The hallway at the top of the stairs was lined with paintings. They must have been her ancestors; some wore riding outfits, suits, or dresses. As they walked down the hall, the paintings became pictures, and the clothes also became more modern. The last picture was different; it was a wedding picture. Her parents.
She stopped.
Unlike the other portraits where the characters were regal and poised, this one had a wildness to it. It was taken in the middle of her parents running around the garden outside, still in their wedding clothes. She could almost hear their laughter through the picture. It looked out of place among the rest. Unrestrained. Playful
"They were very much in love," Mr. Hall said quietly, standing beside her. "Always horsing around those two. She made your grandparents' old bones feel younger, too. They were quite heartbroken when she left."
Ellie swallowed, her fingers tightening around her necklace. The throbbing ache in her chest started anew.
"Hmm.. they were."
"I'm sorry for your loss." After a moment, Mr. Crawford guided her further down the hall. "Your mother's room is here," he said, pushing open a door. "It was connected to your father's."
Ellie stepped inside.
The room was soft. Creamy walls, floral curtains, completely out of place with the rest of the mansion. It looked more like their house in America. A shelf filled with delicate knick-knacks stood near the door. A painting stood on the balcony.
Ellie brushed her hands over the canvas. She could make out the outline of the garden below, but it wasn't completed.
"She was painting this the day she left," Mr. Crawford continued. "Do you want to see her studio?"
Her mom had a studio here, too? "Yes, please," she beamed.
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"Here we are." Mr. Hall led her to a quaint house at the end of the garden. Opening the door, he stood outside, letting Ellie explore on her own.
Ellie took a slow breath as she entered.
The walls were lined with sketches and paintings, the room was bathed in natural light, with floor-to-ceiling windows, and two easels stood in front of it. Outside, she could see a greenhouse. She walked back out.
"Your dad built it before their wedding, " Mr. Crawford said. " She painted here every morning and always said art was necessary for life."
Ellie laughed. "Sounds like something she would say."
"You have a beautiful laugh, young miss."
"Can I see the greenhouse?" she asked softly."
"Of course, Miss Ellie."
******************************************************************************
The greenhouse was warm, filled with the scent of damp earth and fresh flowers. Sunlight filtered through the glass, casting golden streaks across the stone pathway. Colorful flowers in pots, some hanging and some on stands.
Ellie had just stepped inside when she heard it.
A soft whine, followed by a bark.
Then—pattering paws.
Before she could react, a bundle of fur barreled toward her, knocking her to the ground.
A golden retriever, tail wagging furiously, as it nuzzled against her legs.
"Ah," Mr. Hall sighed. "I should have warned you about them."
Ellie knelt, running her hands through the dog's fur. "Them?"
As if on cue, 3 retriever puppies trotted over, running merrily around her.
"They are?" Ellie asked, getting up.
"Third-generation puppies of the estate," At the sound of his voice, the puppies surrounded him, whimpering in delight. "Your parents rescued their grandmother, Iris, years ago," Mr. Hall explained. "The big one, Lily is her pup."
"My mom named them?" Flower names are typical of her mother.
"Oh, yes, after Lily grew up and had her own pups, your father continued the tradition."
"What are their names?"
"Aster, Clover, and Holly."
The puppies barked as if in response to their names, dashing outside after a butterfly, knocking over a pot on their way out.
"Goodness, gracious!" Mr. Hall ran after the dogs.