Page 33 of Air Of Mystery
Over dinner, the Marquettes casually filled me in on their own paranormal experiences at the mansion. I’d have killed for a pad of paper and a pen to take notes. Getting personal information after years of hearing secondhand stories or rumors about the haunting was incredible.
I also had the feeling that this was a test…to see if I would stay discreet with the stories that they had shared with me.
So I sucked it up and didn’t press for more. Besides, after hearing the family’s experiences with their resident ghosts, I had every reason to believe that doing a live show fromthe mansion would be memorable. And during the month of October? My subscribers would absolutely love it.
After supper, Gabriella gave me a quick tour of the museum room that was located in the public section of the building, down the hall from the main lobby of the hotel. I was thrilled. Every time I’d been at the hotel previously—as a guest for the Halloween Ball—the museum room had been closed to the public. During Cordy and Tim’s wedding, I’d been way too busy to think about poking around.
I admired the framed vintage newspaper articles they had about the missing bride, Bridgette Ames-Marquette. The headline read: Bride Disappears: Foul Play Suspected. Someone had taken a lot of pride in setting up all of the museum’s displays and story boards. There were old, reproduced maps of the village on the walls, as well as blueprints of the mansion from when it was built. Their museum room’s displays were both professional and interesting.
I inspected the three large, framed photos of how the building had looked in its various incarnations. First there was an old black and white from when the mansion had been in its heyday; then one from several years ago when it had been in ruin—before the reconstruction; and lastly an image of the structure as I knew it, restored and in current day. I smiled over all the ephemera and items from the 1800s-era Marquette family also on display inside the glass cases. I viewed old top hats, a pair of ladies’ gloves and vintage children’s toys…but bottom line? It was all about the amethysts.
At last, I was able to get a good look at the amethyst parure that was on exhibition behind safety glass. Arranged within a wooden case, the set of jewels was stunning. While I’d seen plenty of photos from the newspapers and online of the dowry—recovered years before by Camilla Midnight and Jacob Ames—seeing the jewels in person was an entirely different matter.
Beside the display, a recently found photo of Pierre Michel and his bride, Bridgette, was presented. Perhaps it would correctly be called a daguerreotype, but while it was small and obviously in black and white, seeing how much Chauncey Marquette, Philippe’s younger brother—and Estella’s husband—resembled his notorious ancestor made the hair rise on the back of my neck.
“No wonder the house and grounds were so violently haunted,” I murmured. “A bride who mysteriously vanished shortly after her arranged marriage, a missing dowry, and a husband falsely accused of her murder...”
“Add in star-crossed lovers, a stolen baby, and a man cursed by a local witch,” Gabriella said. “It all makes for a pretty potent mix. The locals have talked about the story for almost two hundred years.”
“With this museum room and the dowry on display, it is irresistible. I completely understand why folks would want to see the dowry for themselves. It’s history brought to life.”
Gabriella sighed. “Unfortunately, the spirit of Bridgette didn’t rest after her dowry was discovered. It didn’t occur to me, or any of us, that she was so angry to have been forgotten...and that her haunting would only ramp up until her remains were found.”
“She was one bad mama jama,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
Gabriella gave my fingers a squeeze. “She was that, and thankfully the last in a series of dangerous hauntings here at the mansion. I will always remember and be thankful that you, your grandmother, Kenna, Cordelia, and Brynn were all herehelping us that night when we banished Bridgette’s spirit from the grounds.”
“My first Grand Coven experience.” I gave her a playful elbow nudge. “It was one for the books.”
Gabriella chuckled.
“At least now that her remains have been properly interred,” I said, “she’s at peace.”
“I’m so glad we filled that pond in,” Gabriella added. “That part of the property is beautifully coming back to life, and it’ll be a fabulous backdrop for Brynn and Austin’s wedding this fall.”
“Gabriella, I know that you want me to focus on the story of Pierre Michel, his missing bride, and the lost dowry when I come up to film in October...but can I ask you about something that I heard years ago? It’s about a cursed painting.”
Her whole expression changed. “You may ask.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding. “Was there a portrait of Pierre-Michel found here in the mansion during the initial renovation?”
“Yes, there was. But it’s not here any longer.”
I frowned. “As in the portrait was sold, or is in storage?”
Gabriella seemed to consider her words. “The painting was removed for safety reasons and ultimately destroyed about six years ago.”
“Safety reasons?” I repeated. “So, it really was cursed?”
Gabriella lowered her voice. “If we get into this...the rest of this conversation is strictly off the record.”
Damn it,I thought. But to Gabriella I said, “Understood.”
“An expert recommended that we destroy the painting.”
“I can’t imagine a historian would have—”
“Not a historian.” Gabriella cut me off. “Aparanormalexpert, you could say.”
