The driver drops us off at the front gate of the house we’re staying at in Eastbourne. Edward and I stand there for a moment in utter shock, admiring the beauty of the house.

It is a large light yellow house, matching the color of the sun. Wildflowers in shades of purple, blue, pink, and indigo dot the front lawn. Bright green circular bushes are placed in front of the porch, along with huge maple trees hovering over the house, providing plenty of shade.

The fencing of the porch is the color of the clouds, wrapping around the front of the house. The flooring is a deep brown, and to the right, a small white table and two chairs with yellow cushions sit, waiting to be used. This is the perfect reading and knitting spot. To the left of the front door stand a few flower pots. Though we are standing a bit far away, it is evident that wild daisies grow in the pots, along with tall, sunshine-yellow sunflowers proudly standing upright.

The structure of the house is nearly that of a castle: high, arched windows cover the walls, surely letting in plenty of natural light. An intricately detailed turret looms on the second floor, just above where the chairs are situated on the porch. Atop the turret erectly stands a cross, giving the house the illusion of a chapel. White trim adorns the edges of the house, especially the roof, where it appears as delicate as lace. Oh, what a beautiful, enchanting house.

“Come along now, Florence,” Edward calls, hauling our luggage to the front door. I walk ahead of him to open the dark brown door.

“Great heavens,” I gasp as we enter. The interior is even more beautiful than the exterior. I wander about the first floor, examining every little detail.

I enter the parlor and pause beneath the wooden archway. The whole room consists of a red theme. Three tawny armchairs and a sofa, each with comfortable red cushions, surround the coffee table. The wallpaper is a deep red with black designs. A red curtain hangs over the arched windows on both sides of the fireplace. A few potted plants rest on the mantel, their sage green leaves gently draping over the edge. Above the fireplace is a large, gold-rimmed mirror, with swirling designs carved into the frame.

Moving into the kitchen, I am immediately drawn to the center—a tawny island counter with a white marble top. On the left side sits a golden sink with small ornate details etched into the faucet. On the right side of the counter hang a few utensils: a whisk, a ladle, and tongs. Three wooden stools are tucked beneath the opposite edge, making it a rather lovely breakfast nook. Above it all, a crystal light fixture hangs, with tiny glass droplets shimmering in the sunlight.

Against the right wall stands a tall black ice box with brass handles and a lower freezer compartment. I open it out of curiosity. Inside are fresh fruits and vegetables, various cuts of meat, and several bottles of milk and cream. Edward must’ve written ahead and asked his friends to stock it before our arrival. How thoughtful of him. Beside the icebox sits a stoneware vase with a summery arrangement: sunflowers, pink-and-white daisies, lavender carnations, and trailing ferns.

Behind the island sits a grand gas stove with a small oven beneath it, again with golden handles matching those of the icebox. A wooden hood is positioned above it to draw out the heat and smells. Surrounding the stove are glass cabinets. The cabinet above the hood displays wine glasses, small cordial cups, and wide-rimmed gin glasses with diamond-like patterns. To the left, another cabinet holds gold-rimmed plates with pastel floral designs—large plates, smaller ones, tea plates, and matching tea cups.

I make my way to the dining room. A large dark brown table and six matching chairs with spiral designs carved into the wood take up most of the space. A lacy doily stretches down the table, its off-white hue showing signs of age.

In the left corner, facing me, is a vitrine holding yet another set of china. Unlike the kitchen’s, this set features a scalloped edge and delicate violet flowers, rimmed in gold, with basil-green leaves. The household seems more than prepared to entertain.

Back in the foyer, I prepare to search for the master bedroom when I spot Edward through a cracked door, appearing to put things away.

As I pass down the hallway, I admire the paintings on the walls. Most are portraits. One above the front door stands out to me. It resembles a holy icon. A man and a woman sit on a sage green settee trimmed in gold. In the woman’s arms—likely the wife—rests a baby in a dusk-blue dress. Two little girls, about six and eight, stand at either side in matching rose-pink dresses. The family looks dressed for a formal affair.

I step into the master bedroom and take in my surroundings. Each room has a different theme—this one is neutral and calming. A king-size canopy bed rests against the right wall, beige curtains draping from the dark brown frame. The bed is made with a cream duvet and five neatly arranged beige pillows. Two nightstands flank the bed, each with a small lamp. A brass chandelier hangs from the ceiling. Two arched windows open to the front of the house, their beige drapes tied back. In front of them is a small vanity with a vase of white roses beside a simple mirror.

“Florence, would you please hang your dresses? There’s an empty rack on the far right of the closet.”

“Yes, certainly.”

Edward hands me my dresses, folded but still resting on wooden hangers. I walk over to the left and open the double doors to the closet.

It’s a walk-in closet.

I’ve only heard of them before—never seen one. I’ve never had the luxury of seeing one. Not until now, at least. Racks of all sorts of dresses line the walls: party dresses, house dresses, casual frocks, and a few elegant pastel ball gowns. A small section on the left is reserved for men’s clothes.

Sure enough, to the right, an empty space waits for us. I hang up all my dresses and return to Edward, who is still unpacking.