Page 12 of Devil's Haunting
I’ve kept all the old papers I’ve come across, even though I have no idea what I’m going to do with them. It just feels wrong to throw away pieces of history.
There hasn’t been much worth salvaging.
Today I’m checking out what might have been used as a primary bedroom at some point. The wallpaper looks more luxurious than in other rooms. When the guys start on this room, I’ll have to remember to talk to them about saving a piece of it to preserve. I’ll be happy to see it go, no doubt, but it should be remembered as well.
There’s no longer a bed in this room, but the drapery is old, heavy, and musty as hell. The baroque style of the room isn’t my style, but it does fit with the time when it was built. It’s opulent and textural.
One of the things I’ve been keeping my eyes open for are photos. I would love to see what this place looked like during its prime. I want to know how it looked all lit up and about the people who came and went through the doors.
I’ll need to head to the library and dive into newspaper articles from back then and whatever else they have in their archives to find those kinds of treasures, but that’ll only be after I go through every room here.
The desk in the corner looks like it is about to crumble into a million pieces, but I still go through every drawer and cubby. I love the rolltop style of the desk and when it comes time to decorate, I’ll make sure to find a similar one.
One of the drawers is a little sticky and I yank it out with a touch too much force to get it free. The drawer crashes to the ground after coming free of the track. As I pick it up to put it back into place, a red leather notebook falls from underneath the drawer.
I stand there in shock for a moment because I almost can’t believe what I’m looking at. Did a journal or something just appear like magic?
The drawer falls from my hand, and I scoop up the red leather-bound journal instead. My heart is pounding in my chest with excitement.
The moment I open the book, my breath hitches. On the first page there is a stamp which indicates who this journal once belonged to. The name Blanche Ann Landry sits there looking back at me with perfect script.
The name doesn’t sound familiar beyond the old married name of my departed great aunt. This must have been a woman who married into the Landry family. Maybe she was a younger, unwed sister.
Before I can think twice about it, I’ve sunk down to the floor with my eyes locked on the journal. It feels fragile in my hands. The last thing I want to do is be too rough with it and destroy anything. It’s clearly old and needs to be respected.
When I turn to the first page, which was blank when Blanche did the same, however many years ago, the first thing that strikes me is how beautiful her penmanship is. It’s an art and I’m entranced by it. The way the letters flow together makes me want to experience each word.
The first entry is from October 1901 and the moment I start to read, I can’t seem to look away.
Even with all the flooding the city is still recovering from, my father refuses to put off my marriage any longer. He insists that society has been put on hold long enough and that a wedding bringing our two families together will be celebrated. He also told me that Phillipe Landry won’t be put off any longer and is unwilling to continue to wait for my hand.
I’m not sure what the future holds for me, but I know I will find out within the halls of the Landry Estate. It is to become my new home in a matter of days.
I am almost in disbelief that this is happening. It is far too fast for me. Phillipe and I have barely had the chance to get to know each other and I’m unsure whether I believe my father about the impatience of my betrothed.
Phillipe is such a stoic person, I am having a hard time believing he would allow his emotions to take over, no matter what those emotions are.
I’m unsure if I’ll be allowed to make Landry Estate my own once I become the lady of the house. His parents will be moving to their country estate as Phillip has taken over Landry Enterprises completely at this point. He has many years of success under his belt.
I wonder if he will be expecting heirs as soon as our vows are spoken.
I’m not sure if I am ready to become a mother, even though it is my hope I will one day be able to produce strong progeny for my husband and his family.
There is no other future available to me. Landry Estate is calling me and soon I will be wedded.
I don’t know why, but my heart breaks for Blanche. It doesn’t sound like she had much of a choice when it comes to her future. Considering the time, I’m not surprised. Hell, it took far longer than many realize for women to even be able to have a line of credit without the approval of their father or husband. Blanche was a product of her time and of the expectations put on her.
Still, I desperately wish she had some choices. She just…didn’t.
I flip through a few pages, scanning them as I go. She did get married to Phillip. The wedding was widely attended and celebrated, just as her father said it would be. In the safety of the blank pages of her journal, she doesn’t hold back about her fears and concerns.
It is a strange feeling to be grateful that at least she had this journal and the ability to write down her feelings. It must have been a great comfort to her. It certainly wasn’t something every woman had access to at the time, but Blanche did, and she took full advantage of it.
The tone of her entries shifts when she moves into the Landry Estate, and she’s not shy about why right out of the gate. The poor woman. How did she manage to wake up every day and face the reality of the world she was living in?
He’s always looking at her. Desiree.
Phillip has no idea that I’ve noticed. I have hidden my feelings and the way his doting on her cuts me too well. She is aware of how it hurts me though. Part of me believes she is just as caught up in circumstance as I am, but then I’ll catch the way her lips twist in such a way or a lingering look when she serves us dinner and I’m no longer convinced she is simply caught up in the web.
