Perpertually Cloudy Days, Fine Linens, and Years of Pedigreed Breeding

I have this fantasy about the later years of my adulthood in which I buy a large estate in the English countryside where I live alone, read books all day, and have extravagant tea parties on the lawn with eccentric house guests. Hopefully there will have been some horrific murder years ago causing spirits to haunt my home. I will be intrigued by the ghosts, yet still terrified to be isolated, causing me to develop a romantic affair with the man who tends to my gardens. He will fall madly in love with me, begging me to leave my secluded home and start a life with him. I know we could be happy together, but my restless inclination will prevent me from giving into his wants. I am predestined to a life of solitude in my modern castle, but I wouldn't have it any other way.