Promo: Secrets of Rosenli Manor by Heidi Eljarbo
I'm delighted to share an enticing excerpt today from Secrets of Rosenli Manor, an intriguing historical mystery, by Heidi Eljarbo. You'll love it!
It's currently on blog tour with The Coffee Pot Book Club. Make sure to check out the other stops for more enticing reads!
Secrets of Rosenli Manor
Mysteries of the Modern Ladies’ Society, Book 1
Heidi Eljarbo
Historical Fiction / Historical Mystery
Excerpt:
The gardens were quiet. The whispers of winter were fading away. No icicles pointing toward the frozen ground. No sparkling crystals in kaleidoscope patterns on blankets of white. The snowfall earlier had turned into sleet, and it appeared as if the promise of spring was slowly approaching. There was still no rustling of leaves in the breeze, but the barren branches would soon wake up. In a few days, the parkland would be filled with the cheerful sound of busy birds building nests. But at this moment, even the fountain was peacefully sleeping.
Just silence.
A plump bullfinch sat on the pale branch of a birch. His black cap made him look rather strict, but the cheerful red chest and cheeks brightened up the otherwise colorless landscape. The bird bobbed his head as she walked by, as if acknowledging her presence.
Lilly brushed the wet snow off a white-painted wooden bench by the fountain and sat down. What a lovely view. As a young girl, she’d probably never noticed. The road below wound across a sloping field toward the village. Smoke rose from the chimneys of neighboring houses, swirling upward to the already gray sky.
Did she belong here? The manor had been in the Strand family for several generations. Aunt Agatha was her kin, but Lilly knew nothing about the old lady’s past. Who was her husband? Were they happy here in the enormous house with a vast garden overlooking the village? Why did they not have any children?
Thoughts of how it must have been filled Lilly’s head. Not that she wanted to pry into someone else’s life, but she was curious. And now Aunt Agatha had bequeathed everything to her—a young woman at the beginning of her career as an accountant. Why? It was as if she stood on hallowed ground, not knowing the whole story, but with a strong desire to understand.
The last time Lilly was here, Mother and Aunt Agatha had sat on the bench while Lilly had played with a kitten. While the women discussed the fragrances of flowers and herbs, Lilly had rubbed her fingertips against the lavender plants with their sweet, delicious scent.
Lilly must have enjoyed listening to the ladies’ chatter about the garden. As an adult, she spent her weekends outside in the small backyard of her father’s house, arranging amicable groups of her favorite peonies in similar color schemes, rows of lilies in front of bushes of hydrangea, and fragrant sweet pea in pink and purple hues.
Every summer, Father complained about the abundance of blossoms. “What a waste. I have little room left to sit and read my newspaper.”
He wasn’t all gruff, and she hadn’t given up hope that his heart contained a hidden corner that took delight in the lovely things in life. Although, she had yet to see that sentiment surface.
Lilly closed her eyes and lingered a while longer in the memories of childhood. One day, a parcel had arrived at the end of summer. She must have been five years old and had stood by the kitchen table, watching her mother untie the cotton string and fold the brown paper aside.
Inside had been a small wooden box.
“Open it, Mother. Hurry.”
Mother had lifted the lid and had pulled out two linen sachets bound with ivory lace and ribbons. She’d held one of the pouches close to Lilly’s face. “A gift from your Aunt Agatha. Smell it. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Can I hold one?” Lilly had placed the pouch under her nose and had let the scent take her away to fields of lavender, where she imagined herself running between rows of blossoming purple, through meadows of color and fragrance.
Mother had put the sachets in her armoire where the perfume lingered and seeped into her clothes.
Father had rolled his eyes. “Ridiculous. What do we need smelly pouches for? Why couldn’t that old woman give us a bag of gold instead?”
Bittersweet memories from that day, long in hibernation, now surfaced. Lilly wiped her wet cheeks and bent down, pretending to pick one of each of the beautiful flowers, carefully bunching them together, arranging the colors as she thought Aunt Agatha would have. Warm, rosy shades, and flourishing textures of tender softness.
Thank you so much for hosting the blog tour for Secrets of Rosenli Manor.
ReplyDeleteAll the best,
Mary Anne
The Coffee Pot Book Club