Off in a rambling neighborhood of old houses on James Island, there lurks a very singular structure. It sits back from the road, concealed for the most part by stately old trees. Beneath the sweeping branches that line the road, a high old wall conceals the property. The only entrance is through an iron gate. The gatehouse is made of brick, and is as old as most of the rest of the place. The gravel drive winds through the row of trees, angled so as to maintain the privacy of the house.
It was an Inn, once, in simpler times. Then, for many years, it was the home of an increasingly eccentric and increasingly old man. It started, back in the mid 1800s when a fairly eccentric would-be architect names Raleigh thought he had a brilliant plan. A house built on the premise of offset squares. The outer square being the outside of the house, the inner, set at a different angle, framing the courtyard. Not only did this design make for very strange shaped rooms, he'd also managed to not have the inner square properly centered.
The original building was three stories. Later on, after the war, when prosperity returned to Charleston, that same would be architect and his heir added the circular porch at the front, and two floors to the top.
For a time, it was a prosperous Inn. Around the turn of the century, the two wings were added, though most of the rooms continued to be quite eccentric in their dimensions. In the twenties, the house's remoteness paid off well, as it became a popular place to enjoy an evening out, and a good place to conceal a drinking establishment, when such were illegal.
Prosperity fell off in the thirties. The House was even empty for a period in the forties and early fifties. Then another Raleigh acquired it, a descendent of the eccentric creator. He restored what had deteriorated during the period of neglect, but he never made some of the renovations that would be necessary to open it as an Inn. Instead, he did the parts that he wanted, and added security measures beyond the simple wall.
When he passed away, he left no heirs and the property reverted to a distant cousin, who didn't want anything to do with it. Trying to sell it was harder than expected. It's much too big to be a family home, but would need extensive renovations to serve as an Inn of any sort now. The electrical wiring for all floors is fine. The problem is, there's no plumbing above the first floor. A problem, of course, that is a moot issue for Kindred.