a matching sweater gives her a casual, laid back appearance, a contrast to the uptight suits the old crabapple who ran the library I used to go to would wear. It never made sense to me that a person who lost herself to fantasy worlds all day long could be so grumpy.
Unless, perhaps, her thing was reading nonfiction. Gross.
“Can I help you?” A world of wonder lights the woman’s pale blue eyes when she acknowledges me and sets her book aside.
“I’m just curious if you might have some information on the Charpentier Estate?”
“Oh, yeah. A few snippets here and there.” With a jerk of her head, she invites me to follow after her and leads me through rows of books, to a room at the back of the library. “Some artifacts are kept at the museum, but you’ll find much of the historical information here.”
“Artifacts?”
“From back when it was a plantation. Many of the tools and personal effects of the original owner were seized by the state. There’s a book that lists some of the items here.” From a shelf of leather-bound books, up high, she retrieves one of them and carefully opens it to a page that looks almost like an accounting ledger, on which items have been listed alongside, what I’m guessing is, their value. “You’ll find just about anything you’re looking for on this shelf here. And then, if you pull that drawer out behind you, the original blueprints for the house are there.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t sound like you’re from around here. Can I ask what your interest is in the Charpentier Estate?”
“Just curious, mostly.”
“Folks around here don’t harbor much curiosity in the old Estate these days, after what happened.” Hands crossed in front of her, she sighs. “That poor house has been the brunt of more ghosts than a Shirley Jackson novel.”
“Did you know Doctor Pierce?”
“Everyone on this island knew the good doctor.” The smile on her face fades to something more serious. “It’s a shame. The things he was dabbling in.”
“What things?”
“For whatever reason, he seemed to take an interest in the occult. The man would come in here a few times a week, asking for references on Voodoo, Palo Mayombe, Santeria.” Brows knitting into a frown, she stares off as if lost to unseen thoughts. “I recall the last time I saw him alive. He came in here, frantically searching for a particular book we just didn’t have on site. His eyes were red, and he had awful dark circles, like the poor man hadn’t slept in days. Completely disheveled looking.”
“Do you remember which book he was searching for?”
“Not off hand now, no. I’m sorry.”
“No worries. I understand the house was once a hiding place for slaves.”
“Ah, yes. Garcelle Charpentier was a very wealthy widow. A very rebellious woman in her time, who, after the passing of her overbearing husband, refused slave labor for her sugar cane plantation back in the early eighteen-hundreds. Instead, she offered her workers the opportunity to earn wages. They say she sparked the uprising, which led to the massacre.”
“How?”
“Other slaves got word and demanded the same.”
“She hid a number of slaves. In her home, right?”
“Yes. Rumor has it, there’s a secret chamber in that house.”
It’s true, then. There is a secret chamber. “You wouldn’t happen to know where in the house the chamber is hidden?”
“Goodness, no. I personally wouldn’t set foot in that house.”
“You mentioned a blue print of the house. Would the chamber be included in the blue prints?”
“I’m afraid not. It’s really only speculation that it exists. I’m not sure anyone’s actually seen the secret chamber. Many around here believe the house, itself, is haunted by the souls of the dead. Gives people the heebee-jeebies. Only ones to live in that house since the Charpentiers were outsiders. Folks who didn’t know the history of it.”
“The slaves were slaughtered, right?”
“Yes. A group of slave owners hunted them down. And did things that were unchristian to the slaves, and Lady Charpentier, as well.”
“They murdered her, too?”
“Yes. It’s believed that those who carried out the massacre were possessed by the devil himself. In fact, history refers to them as the Devil’s Seven, seeing as it was the heads of seven different families who led the hunt. The stories about the massacre go on to say that one of the men was dragged from his home and given liquor to get him drunk, after which he confessed to having witnessed a black mass carried out before they stormed the Charpentier Estate.”