heartofcourage
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 20, 2012
- Posts
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The stone building on the outskirts of London had always been a bit imposing. Centuries old, the grey stone had aged into a darkened color. Four stories tall, it dwarfed the surrounding homes, and the clear glass windows looked like sad eyes that looked out on a well tended garden. The garden grew in the courtyard with trees that were older than many of the buildings and blood red roses that had always been there as far as anyone else was concerned.
Dylan Jennings had always felt at home there. Her grandfather had left it to her in his will since she was his only living relative and it seemed that she was the only one excited about it. Her fiancee, John Davies, was not impressed in the least. They had been living in a small flat in the south of London and all he had done since she announced they were moving was complain. It was too far away from his work, too far away from his mates, too far away from his favorite pub. It would cost too much to heat. It would cost too much to upkeep. Dylan didn’t listen. This was her home and she absolutely loved it.
Exploring the halls of Darkwood Manor had been some of her greatest memories as a child. Her grandfather had been doting and loved having here there, especially after her Grandmother had died nearly twelve years ago. Her mother had been distant and her father out of the picture since she was five. Darkwood was all that she had left from her family and she would be damned if she let her fiancee talk her out of it.
Carrying a box into the wide entrance, Dylan took in a deep breath, savoring the smell of pipe smoke and furniture polish. It reminded her of her grandfather, the dear old man who had passed away three months ago. His furnishings were still there and she would take her time in sorting through what she wanted and what could go to charity. She let out a gasp as John bumped into her with another box, her dark eyes finding his as he smiled at her with that charming grin.
“You’ve been so good about all this, John.” She said, kissing his cheek before she started up the stairs to set the box down in what would be her studio.
She was a painter, one that specialized in portraits. She had chosen the former greenhouse on the second floor to act as her new studio. It was bright and airy, providing her with enough inspiration from the nature she saw outdoors to feed her imagination for years to come. She brushed her blonde hair away from her face and looked around the glass enclosure with a grin.
She would leave John to the unpacking. She wanted to explore. Looking through the bedrooms and the study, she made mental notes of where she wanted to start first. It was the ballroom in the forth floor that gave her the greatest start though. Stepping into the polished wooden room, she noticed for the first time the portraits that lined the walls.
They were of men that were obviously all related. One man stood with a beautiful raven haired woman who was holding bonny twin boys. The large man held a swaddled baby so gently in his arms, his dark eyes looking on the woman with such a look of love. The next was of a great warrior with his arm around the waist of a beautiful woman, her emerald green eyes looking up at the dark haired man with a breathtaking expression. There were three other portraits just like it, but the last was the one that was truly amazing.
It was of a man with a woman in his arms, her gown telling Dylan that it had to be painted a long time ago. The woman’s face was pressed against the dark haired man’s shoulder, only the golden glow of her blonde hair visible as the man’s arm wrapped tightly around her waist. His nose was pressed to her hair, his eyes closed. The portrait was so incredibly intimate that she worried she were intruding on their peace. A little plaque on the bottom of the portrait announced that this was A. Ghis and his wife, Dylandra.
Strange…that’s my name…Dylan thought to herself, though no one ever called her that. The woman’s hair looked so much like her own. Weird. She must have been a distant relation.
“Dyl! Can you come and give me a hand!” John’s voice floated up to her from far below and she glanced towards the ballroom door.
“I’ll be right there.” She called back, sparing one last glance towards the portraits before she left the room, gently closing the door behind her.
Dylan Jennings had always felt at home there. Her grandfather had left it to her in his will since she was his only living relative and it seemed that she was the only one excited about it. Her fiancee, John Davies, was not impressed in the least. They had been living in a small flat in the south of London and all he had done since she announced they were moving was complain. It was too far away from his work, too far away from his mates, too far away from his favorite pub. It would cost too much to heat. It would cost too much to upkeep. Dylan didn’t listen. This was her home and she absolutely loved it.
Exploring the halls of Darkwood Manor had been some of her greatest memories as a child. Her grandfather had been doting and loved having here there, especially after her Grandmother had died nearly twelve years ago. Her mother had been distant and her father out of the picture since she was five. Darkwood was all that she had left from her family and she would be damned if she let her fiancee talk her out of it.
Carrying a box into the wide entrance, Dylan took in a deep breath, savoring the smell of pipe smoke and furniture polish. It reminded her of her grandfather, the dear old man who had passed away three months ago. His furnishings were still there and she would take her time in sorting through what she wanted and what could go to charity. She let out a gasp as John bumped into her with another box, her dark eyes finding his as he smiled at her with that charming grin.
“You’ve been so good about all this, John.” She said, kissing his cheek before she started up the stairs to set the box down in what would be her studio.
She was a painter, one that specialized in portraits. She had chosen the former greenhouse on the second floor to act as her new studio. It was bright and airy, providing her with enough inspiration from the nature she saw outdoors to feed her imagination for years to come. She brushed her blonde hair away from her face and looked around the glass enclosure with a grin.
She would leave John to the unpacking. She wanted to explore. Looking through the bedrooms and the study, she made mental notes of where she wanted to start first. It was the ballroom in the forth floor that gave her the greatest start though. Stepping into the polished wooden room, she noticed for the first time the portraits that lined the walls.
They were of men that were obviously all related. One man stood with a beautiful raven haired woman who was holding bonny twin boys. The large man held a swaddled baby so gently in his arms, his dark eyes looking on the woman with such a look of love. The next was of a great warrior with his arm around the waist of a beautiful woman, her emerald green eyes looking up at the dark haired man with a breathtaking expression. There were three other portraits just like it, but the last was the one that was truly amazing.
It was of a man with a woman in his arms, her gown telling Dylan that it had to be painted a long time ago. The woman’s face was pressed against the dark haired man’s shoulder, only the golden glow of her blonde hair visible as the man’s arm wrapped tightly around her waist. His nose was pressed to her hair, his eyes closed. The portrait was so incredibly intimate that she worried she were intruding on their peace. A little plaque on the bottom of the portrait announced that this was A. Ghis and his wife, Dylandra.
Strange…that’s my name…Dylan thought to herself, though no one ever called her that. The woman’s hair looked so much like her own. Weird. She must have been a distant relation.
“Dyl! Can you come and give me a hand!” John’s voice floated up to her from far below and she glanced towards the ballroom door.
“I’ll be right there.” She called back, sparing one last glance towards the portraits before she left the room, gently closing the door behind her.