Looking at it more closely, I saw that the swan had one sleepy red ruby eye. Its wings curved gently to cup its head on an almost oval bed. The wing-tip feathers were like fingers holding back the delicate transparent draperies that were in all shades of pink and rose and violet and purple.

“Your mother wanted this?” I asked.

He stepped up beside me. “She designed it herself. It was sort of a hobby of hers. My father never thought much of her talent or vision when it came to designing things. He made fun of it, actually, sometimes bringing her to tears.”

“How cruel. Anyway, he was quite wrong. This is beautiful. The swan was a perfect choice because of its grace.”

“Somehow I knew you would say that.”

I gazed around. “The whole bedroom is unique.”

There was a thick mauve carpet and a large rug of white fur near the bed. There were four lamps four feet high made of cut crystal and decorated with gold and silver. Two of them had black shades, and placed between the other two was a chaise longue upholstered in rose-colored velvet.

“What a shame that it’s gone unused.”

“My father hated all this color. He wouldn’t come into the room after she had it completed. If he could have, he would have nailed the door shut. Even though she didn’t sleep in that bed, she spent lots of time in here. It was sort of an escape for her, escape from my father and even from me.”

I nodded.

“You don’t have to believe that so fast.”

“I’m sure you don’t lie,” I said.

He laughed.

I looked at the walls covered with opulent silk damask in a bright strawberry-pink and then stepped up to the bed to feel the soft, furry coverlet.

“Sleeping in this bed would be like sleeping on a cloud, I imagine.”

He pressed his lips together and nodded. “It doesn’t look the same in the daytime.”

“Probably not,” I said. “Nothing does, including most people.”

He laughed heartily again and reached for my hand. “Come on. I have the most interesting new drink to share with you, something I discovered in Italy. I brought back the recipe and have it made for me here in Charlottesville now.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“They call it limoncello. Some say it began with monks; others say fishermen. Every part of Italy seems to take credit for its origin. I’ll venture to say you won’t find it anywhere else right now in all of Virginia, even all of the United States, but here. I do like discovering new things and bringing them to Foxworth Hall, delicious and beautiful things. I’ll show you what I can tonight.”

What he could? Was there a surprise behind every door?

We stopped at the one just past the Swan Room.