by Madison Kent
She did not have a direction yet to follow. But with Hugh's return to health, she hoped the two of them could find something out. Belle was too old for such a fright, and Hanna too fragile. It must stop.
Chapter Four
The Plantation Oak
Father came rushing downstairs to find Madeline holding Belle in her arms. At first, she resisted being comforted, but then acquiesced as she began to tremble.
"May I have a bourbon?" she asked.
"Of course, Father will stay with you while I get your drink," Madeline said.
"Hugh, could you give me some assistance with Belle? I'd like to get her back to her room," said Father.
Madeline touched the chiseled, glass bottle as if an old friend, holding it in her hand for a moment. She was still struggling to discontinue her use of alcohol and drugs to allay her grief.
Belle was one of the strongest women she had ever met, and yet just now, she appeared childlike and helpless. Marie Laveau's power was real to her. Madeline knew the presence of the occult and the superstitions in the area were a greater part of their life than anything she had ever known. She felt if she told this story in Chicago, most people would find it a charming little fantasy like The Wizard of Oz.
She took two glasses out, and poured herself and Belle a drink, promising herself to have this one.
Hugh was coming down as Madeline started up the stairs to Belle's room.
"She looks almost as if she's in a trance. She kept muttering, ′"Stay away, Marie"′. She's such a reasonable woman; I find it perplexing that she could be so undone with, what seems as, nothing but an obvious ploy to frighten her," he said.
"I couldn't agree with you more. Tomorrow perhaps we can go to find out more about Marie Laveau, the voodoo culture, and maybe even about what happened at the bank. People here seem to be more willing to talk than in Chicago," replied Madeline.
"Are you taking that bourbon up to her?"
"Yes."
"When you come down, perhaps you would join me in a glass, also?"
"I think that would be most agreeable," she said to Hugh, knowing she had already had one drink, but that she would amend her ways tomorrow.
By now, she could hear the voices of Hannah and Wesley on the staircase. She heard Hannah call out her mother's name and assumed they were both in the room with Belle.
Madeline was putting the bourbon bottle back on the table when Hugh came to the drawing room.
He said, "At least at the Harrison, we had an idea who it might be, and they were of flesh, not spirit."
The last case she had found her and Hugh, as well as others, investigating the disappearance of several girls on Goose Island. Their quest brought them to the Harrison Hotel. This case, however, was different; they were attempting to catch a ghost.
She handed him his glass and took his arm as he led her to the settee closest to the four cathedral windows.
"This is as close to our window seat on Erie Street as we will manage here," said Hugh.
Many a night, she and Hugh had sat talking at her home on Erie Street in Chicago, where Hugh resided as a guest in the flat above her. He had brought flowers from England that bloomed in the moonlight, and together they would discuss the day's events while observing the beauty of the garden.
"What is the purpose of it? No one here poses a threat to anyone. If it is a member of the Mafia, what could be behind it?" Madeline offered.
"I agree. Unless, it truly is someone in the city who believes we have brought the vengeance of Marie Laveau, and they wish to frighten Belle and her family away. My only other thought is that whoever is the murderer might wish to frighten Wesley."
"I suppose he is trying to find out who was responsible. Yes, either scenario would hold water."
"Shall we make an early start of it then?" Hugh asked.
"Indeed. I am happy you are well enough to join me. A telegram has come from Jonathan, and he said he is trying his best to come to see us."
"There is some good news then in that."
He escorted her to her room and moved as if he wished to hug her, but instead reached his hands out to her and squeezed them.
"Thank you for everything. You have been my steadfast friend, and if you ever need anything, I will be there for you," said Madeline.
"It will always be my pleasure to stand beside you."
With that, he bid her good-night, and she watched him walk away with joy in her heart that he was so nearby. For a moment, she thought of her deceased husband, Russell, and wondered if he would approve of Hugh. Then a cold chill came over her, and for a moment, she felt a stinging bitterness that her beloved Russell was not there with her. She would write in her journal tonight; perhaps that would purge her thoughts of sadness.
August 8, 1889 - New Orleans
The Belle Magnolia Mansion
The beauty I once saw at Belle Magnolia now is only dark shadows. The grounds, fragrant from the multitude of flowers in the garden, now seem to be dying, and a strange mist has fallen across the land.
I sometimes believe I have been bewitched myself as I seem to hear and see things moving. In the morning, we will investigate what caused the loud noise. I pray it was not a gun shot, and perhaps something caused by the storm. Maybe our minds were playing tricks on us.
I wish I could be free from my self-imposed curse that appears locked in place, and unable to move forward with my relationship with Hugh. So many opportunities have come to pass, and I believe Hugh has genuine feelings for me. He will not wait forever—some young woman would be fortunate to have a man like him. I wonder if I will ever find salvation.
For now, I can help Belle and her family. I am awaiting a telegram from Jonathan and hope he will be here soon.
She was tired and had meant to gather her thoughts about the events of the evening, but instead Hugh invaded her mind and made her feel as if she could no longer concentrate.
Tomorrow, they will know more.
At breakfast, they gathered together for a meager bit of baked bread and coffee. No one seemed to have an appetite. One person, however, was not in attendance.
"Where is Wesley this morning? Has he gone into town?" asked Father.
"No, he couldn't sleep, and as soon as the rain let up, he went to look about the grounds. He wished to see if he could discover what caused the noise last night, and if there were additional voodoo items placed anywhere," Hannah said.
"How long ago did he go out?" asked Hugh.
"Not long, about six o'clock or so. It's only seven. now. I should think he might be back anytime. Although, if he means to make a thorough search, it could be longer. We have some twenty acres of land to examine," answered Hannah.
"Well, I think we should join him as soon as possible," Madeline said.
"I'd like to spend a moment with Belle. You are not looking that well this morning," said Father.
"Nonsense," she said.
"I insist," he said, and then she nodded her head in agreement.
"Hugh, would you mind helping the servants move the storm debris from the back entrance?" asked Belle.
"Of course not. I shall begin immediately, and then meet Madeline and Wesley on the grounds," replied Hugh.
"Then I shall be off. I would start down by the group of oak trees located at the east end of the grounds, near the pond. Isn't that where you believed the figure ran to?" Madeline asked directing her question to Belle.
"Yes, that is a good place to start. Do be careful," Belle answered.
"Is it unlikely the unsavory show them in the day. I hope you are feeling better soon," said Madeline.
The storm made the grassy area muddy and puddled with water. Broken pieces of twigs and leaves were everywhere. Her feet sunk into the ground, leaving on her boots mud that nearly reached her ankle. She walked only about ten minutes when she came to a group of densely populated oaks. Spanish moss dripping from their limbs was in abundance, gave the appearance the of veiled secrecy.
It was
there that she would come upon the sight that would forever haunt her. A thick, twisted golden rope was hanging from one of the stout branches, braided into a noose. The face of the person dangling from its hold became partially obscured by layers of moss laid over his head and shoulders; the macabre appearance was as if some unearthly creature arose from the ground. Caught in the rope's deadly grasp was the now silent voice of dearest, Wesley Randolph.
With her heart racing and a scream caught in her throat, she tried unsuccessfully to ascend the tree. But she could find no foothold, the mud greasing her boots even further, keeping her from moving up the trunk. She knew it was unlikely she could remove Wesley from this hanging tree, but she lost all sense of rationale. Attempting to move a barrel that had been left nearby to gather water, she stood atop it, hoping she could somehow push up on his body and release it from the rope.
Tears began to roll uncontrollably from her eyes, as she made her way back toward Belle Magnolia. Within walking distance, she heard the familiar voice of Hugh calling out to her. She ran as if the devil himself chased her, calling out his name in a loud, moaning sound.
"Dear God, Madeline, what is it?" Hugh asked as he put his arms around her to steady her.
"I...it is too terrible. Come."
She leaned against him, grasping his hand as they walked. It was only moments before Wesley's body came into view.
Hugh stopped and yelled out, "No! No! Not Wesley, not him. That good man deserved a long, wonderful life. What evil thing did this!"
He stood on the barrel, but unlike her, had the needed strength to release Wesley from the deadly grip of the noose. Madeline stood beneath, somehow finding the ability to assist in easing the body to the mud-soaked ground.
Removing the moss from around his face and shoulders, she touched his cheek in a loving caress. "Wesley, how we will miss you! Your life did you credit. I don't know how your dear wife will be able to live without you."
Her tears rolled from her face to drop upon his face. The cruel actions that could bring about such pain to others, in a moment snatching life, not just from Wesley, but the essence of it from Hannah and Belle through this senseless deed.
Hugh sat beside Madeline in the wet sludge, both of them uncaring now about the smell, the mosquitoes, and their clothing covered in filth.
They continued to hold hands, Madeline gaining some comfort from his touch.
"How will she get through it, Hugh? As difficult as my own husband's passing was, I did not face such a revelation as this. If it was Russell, I believe I would have gone completely mad."
"Yes, and I don't believe she has your resilience. Belle is strong, and will be her steadfast protector. That will help, but I believe she may need more than that. It is no longer a question of if we can find the perpetrator, but when. If you could survive in Whitechapel, you will survive this. We will face it together."
Once again, Hugh was there for her in the darkness, lighting the candle in her soul so that she might see the path to resolution.
"Did you see the white robe?" he asked.
"White robe? No...where?"
"Look there, hanging on the back branch. It is a white robe. Isn't that supposed to be what Marie Laveau wore?"
"It is. A symbol I am sure someone is using to frighten everyone to the point of hysteria. They needn't bother—the death of Wesley will do that. I cannot imagine that whatever few remaining servants will stay now."
"But those that have stayed have a remarkable loyalty to Belle. We'll see; they may surprise us. Your father will need you now—their mental health is at risk."
They were at the door of the mansion. Belle was talking to the servants about the task of cleaning up after the storm, but Hanna was not present.
"Mademoiselle Mayfair, it is urgent that we speak to you," said Hugh.
The tone of his voice made Belle turn toward them with a peculiar look of fright across her face.
"What have you learned? What could you have found at this early hour? Have they slaughtered one of my animals? I hope it is not my horse," said Belle, her voice becoming high-pitched.
Madeline went to her side and spoke to her the words that no one is ever prepared to hear.
"It's Wesley. Someone has hung him from the far oak tree. I'm so sorry; it is hard to believe that such a terrible thing has come to pass."
She was about to continue, but Belle started to fall backward. Hugh rushed up to help her steady her, bringing her to rest on the divan.
"No, not someone—it's Marie Laveau. It is a force none of us can contend with. Underestimate her power at your risk. My Hannah and I will be next. She has sought vengeance on us, and now she has it," said Belle, in a voice that drifted off farther and farther as she spoke.
Madeline did not wish to express her unshakeable doubt that indeed Marie Laveau was not behind this, but a flesh and blood mortal. But that discussion would have to be said at another time when Belle was in a better state of mind.
"I'll get Father," he will give you something to calm you," she said.
"Who will tell my Hannah? What will become of us now?" Belle said as her voice trailed off into a whisper.
Chapter Five
Marie Laveau's Rise
The field hands, Father, and Hugh moved Wesley's body into the study that had been closed off. Hannah, unwilling to accept her husband's fate, had refused to believe he was gone until she saw him laid out in the room. She kissed his cheek and then crumpled to the floor in a dead faint. Father and Hugh took her to her room, the former sedating her so that she was now in a deep sleep.
Belle, curiously, now seemed to regain her fighting spirit, and asked them to join her in the drawing room for mint juleps and to form a strategy of attack.
"He was a brave, good man. I didn't think any man could rise to meet my expectations for a husband for my Hannah. I had put her on such a pedestal; I was afraid that any suitor would fall short of what I hoped for her. Then this unassuming, kind man came into her life, bringing her nothing but happiness. He died fighting for justice, and justice is what he will have. I'll make sure this city never forgets the name of Wesley Randolph, and the ultimate sacrifice he paid by protecting another man's rights," she said.
"We will need to notify the police. Perhaps we could use the time in the market to make inquiries," said Madeline.
"I will escort you. I'm sure your father will choose to stay with Belle and Hannah," said Hugh.
Father having just returned to the drawing room, nodded his head in agreement.
Riding next to Hugh in their well-worn carriage, Madeline wrung her hands over and over without even realizing it, until he placed his hand over hers.
He said, "This is devastating, but you have come across the evil element that exists in the human population and exposed it. You must write to Jonathan and tell him of the situation. The three of us together will be a force to contend with."
Reaching the police station, they went into a private area. When they described what had occurred, the police officer said that all such cases were to be taken directly to Chief of Police Hennessey. His aggressive behavior toward the clans who organized to commit this crime is known. A lynching was of a particular abhorrent occurrence, creating more apprehension in the community than fatalities from gunshots. The residents believed everyone was at risk when it came to such deeds.
"We'll have a team of men comes out within the hour. A tragic business indeed, it seems like the work of dem dagoes," said Chief Hennessey.
Madeline had heard this derogatory term used in Chicago—it was a slang term used for Sicilian and Italian immigrants. From the way he continued to talk, Chief Hennessey seemed to have a particular animosity for them, blaming all the recent ills of the city directly towards the arrival of those people. In her hometown, she knew many people of that descent, and all were a joy to know. But a minority element can sometimes paint a large sector of people with the same unjust brush.
"How is the wife faring?" he continued.
"She is quite unwell, as you can imagine. My father is a physician, and he is caring for her the best he can. Will you please keep us informed of your progress?" Madeline asked.
"She will need to be questioned, along with everyone who was in the vicinity...such as any servants," he said.
"We shall meet you back at Belle Magnolia within the hour. We have some business to attend to in the market," she added.
"What do you hope to accomplish?" Hugh asked when they left the station.
"These people are socially connected, unlike those in Whitechapel or even on Goose Island. They all converse for hours in the market. I'm sure we will find a place to start the investigation into Wesley's murder. Good Lord, just saying the words Wesley's murder, it doesn't seem possible. We all were together last evening, with such hope for a promising future and end to this madness. Now, it seems, it is just the beginning," said Madeline.
"I think it best if we take different avenues. I would like to speak to those at that new place where they sell the chicory coffee. There is always a crowd there. Do you agree?"
"Yes. I will go toward the meat shops, and perhaps the library. Although there is not such a crowd there, they draw a certain type of person that might bring a different insight."
"You mean the erudite?" Hugh said as he laughed.
"Well, perhaps I may find someone who does not hold all their opinions based on the voodoo superstitions that flourish here."
When Madeline approached a small group of women huddled together in conversation, she was surprised to hear them speak of Wesley's hanging. She assumed one of the servants had galloped into town to tell of the tragedy at Belle Magnolia.
