*Seraphine*
As I walk into the main entryway, I fight not to be awestruck, but the impressive surroundings take my breath. The high vaulted fresco ceiling, the wide staircase with its red runner, the walls bearing portraits of his ancestors, the furniture with its intricate carvings, polished to a shine. The statuettes, the vases, the adornments. I can’t help but believe that my mother had expected, at some point in my life, to have servants at my beck and call, similar to the footman relieving Langdon of my balloon and carrying it away, after he’d been ordered to see it well cared for.
As though it were a person. A treasure as fine as any that surround me now. His mother is standing at the foot of the stairs. “Come. I’ll show you to your chamber, and I’ll see about finding something of
