The Dowry Read online

  Selecting several of the volumes, he also discovered a bundle of letters, all addressed to Charlotte from her husband. Curious, Robert opened the top one and found it dated January, 1864, placing it having been written late in the Civil War. He put the letter back in the envelope and, gathering the items he had set aside, he closed the trunk tightly and headed inside.

  As they entered the house, Hunter stopped at the opening to the parlor, once again wagging his tail as if greeting someone. Entering the empty room and looking around, Robert found nothing to justify the dog’s reaction. Returning to his cot, he watched the hound eventually come in and find his blanket.

  “Are you seeing ghosts, buddy? Say hi for me,” he asked playfully.

  For the next several hours, with Hunter nearby, Robert learned more about the mysterious woman whose vision had created the house that was to be their future home. Eventually, the long day caught up with him and he extinguished the gas lantern before falling fast asleep.

  ----*----

  Robert was standing in his desert camouflage pattern army Battle Dress Uniform, or BDU’s as he watched his men digging a trench down the side of the hard-packed dirt road. His helmet was doing little to shade him from the harsh Middle Eastern desert sun. The vest that made up his body armor over his jacket made him stifling hot, but it was a necessary evil. The dust from the digging hung in the air around them, the lack of a breeze doing nothing to dissipate the heat he felt.

  With his hand on the butt of his Berretta 9mm, safely holstered but loaded and ready for use, he calmly scanned the area, noting the villagers standing nearby. They, too, were watching the work that would improve their lives. Robert, in turn, was looking for anyone not anxious for the work to be completed. On more than one occasion, he had experienced the business end of an insurgent’s AK as they tried to disrupt the good deeds the Americans performed for the locals.

  Constantly vigilant, he mentally ticked off the work to be done. He knew the damaged well head had been repaired and with this new waterline, the villagers would soon have a constant supply of fresh water. Even though they were performing a great service to the community, he continued to scan the area looking for any signs of trouble. He was well aware that insurgents frequently mingled in the crowds, looking for opportunities to kill Americans.

  Satisfied all was well, he turned from the trencher to head back the way it had come. As he walked along the route their trencher had completed, back to the well itself, he checked the depth and width of the trench. He was looking to verify it was deep enough to protect the newly laid piping from any road traffic once they covered the opening. As he walked, he thought to himself that it was nice to be back in a dry heat rather than the humidity of Florida.

  He stopped at that thought, wondering why he even considered such a thing. He was a West Coast guy and hadn’t been to Florida in ages. Now, he was in the Middle East, working with his Engineering unit, repairing damage done in the Gulf War. It was then he noticed the woman standing nearby, in an elegant 19th century blue dress, and looking very much out of place.

  She was standing quietly, watching him as he walked past, and never looking away as he stared back at her.

  “Who are you?” Robert asked as he stopped to question the beautiful blonde.

  “I am Charlotte Foxworth,” she replied in a tone that made Robert feel he should have known the answer already.

  “Why are you here?” he questioned her.

  “I’m watching you work.”

  “But why?” he asked, unsure of the relevance.

  “I am watching to be sure you do it right,” she responded.

  ----*----

  The following morning Robert awoke to Hunter’s barking. Sitting up from his cot, he could see RD pulling up out front in his truck. Still a little groggy from just waking, RD had made his way inside before Robert had finished slipping his jeans on.

  “Well, you survived the night I see,” RD declared as he handed him a tall paper coffee cup.

  “Two creams and two sugars?” he asked Robert as he passed the cup over to him.

  “Thanks,” Robert replied as he took a sip of the hot contents.

  “So, no spooky incidents last night?” RD asked, more seriously this time.

  “Not a damn thing,” Robert answered, deciding to leave the stove incident undisclosed.

  It was then he remembered his dream. Unsure of what to say, he debated sharing the information with his friend. In the end he assumed it was his own projections of Charlotte assessing everything he did to the house that had spawned the images in his subconscious.

  “Well, that should kill the rumors then,” RD said with a smile, bringing Robert back to the present.

  “Oh, these are for you,” he added as he handed the large roll of drawings he had tucked under one arm.

  Robert ran a hand through his unruly hair before taking the roll. Moving over to the folding table, he spread the plans out where the two could see them better. Even though he had been working on the computer for years, he still preferred a stack of prints to a computer display.

  “I like what you did here,” RD commented as they reviewed the second floor.

  In dealing with the changes made to the floorplan in the 1940s, Robert had reconfigured the bathroom layout. By placing two of them back to back, he reduced the amount of plumbing required and minimized the affected area. The configuration also provided him his master bedroom ensuite, leaving the other bath available via the upstairs landing.

  “These bedrooms aren’t big enough to add closets, but the wardrobes we found in the attic will do nicely in their place,” Robert said as he outlined the rooms in question.

  Probably Charlotte’s original furniture, they had discovered several large European wardrobes in the attic that held a considerable amount. He was well aware that the modern-day concept of bedroom closets didn’t appear in the US until well into the 20th century. Besides, reconfiguring the upstairs to add modern closets could well violate his agreement, if not in principle, then in spirit.

  While the two men reviewed the drawings, several of the work crew began appearing. As each arrived, they first checked in on Robert, in an apparent validation that he had in fact had survived the night and the project was still on. With each arrival, Robert would smile and wave, as if to say, yes, I am still here, get to work!

  With plenty of unfinished work from the prior day’s efforts, Robert left RD to supervise as he finished reviewing the plans and went back to his laptop for corrections. Several times during the morning, he had to stop and remeasure different rooms, to verify his estimates and the original drawing’s accuracy. Finally satisfied he had what he needed; he sent the file off to RD’s office once more for final copies.

  “How’s it going?” Robert heard RD ask from behind him as he closed his laptop.

  “Just sent the revisions to your people. It would be great if we can get copies today to submit for approval and sign off.”

  “I’ll have someone run them out this afternoon,” RD replied.

  “What’s this?” he asked as he picked up one of the diaries from Robert’s cot.

  “More diaries and letters. I finished the first volume last night and went looking for the next. The house wasn’t finished yet in the first one.”

  “And?” RD asked as he set the book back down on the bunk.

  “Did you know she was forced to get married to someone she hardly knew? And all the European furniture was purchased on their honeymoon by her husband.”

  “Hey, that still happens today,” RD responded, unimpressed by the disclosure.

  “Did you want to read that?” Robert said, understanding that RD wasn’t as interested in the history here as he.

  “I’m not much of a reader, I’ll just wait for the movie. Besides, it still weirds me out to be reading someone else’s diaries, even if they are long dead,” he replied with a shiver.

  “Your loss, she was a hell of a person,” Robert said, as the two headed ou
t to check on the progress being made in the basement.

  ----*----

  It was late in the afternoon as Robert watched two cars enter the gate, one after the other. The first he recognized as Victoria Foxworth Baines, while the second he had never seen before. As the Mercedes pulled up near the front of the house, he descended the steps to meet the elderly lady rather than wait for her to climb the steps. Parked just outside the huge metal dumpster they had been filling the last few days, Robert had to pass around the bin to reach her.

  “Mr. Garrison, here are your prints,” Robert heard from a young woman as she rushed from the second car that had pulled past Victoria and stopped in front of him.

  “Thanks.” He accepted the rolled drawings while continuing on to meet the older woman as she rounded the dumpster.

  “Victoria,” Robert said as he greeted the woman.

  “I see you have been busy,” she replied as she accepted his outstretched hand.

  “We have permission from the city to clean out the old material, but I still need approval from you on these to start with the new work,” he said with a smile as he held up the roll of drawings.

  “Oh, not me, dear. I wouldn’t have the slightest idea of what I was looking at. I believe someone else will be by to, what’s it called? Sign them off?” she responded as the two approached the front steps.

  “My mistake, I had expected that to be you,” he replied, confused and slightly concerned at whom else might be involved in this. Relying on an unknown player to approve his work did not give him the warm fuzzys.

  Entering the foyer, Victoria glanced into the parlor to the right and cracked a subtle smile.

  “Did someone stay the night?” she asked cautiously.

  “That was me. My crew has been listening to ghost stories and I had to prove to them the place wasn’t haunted.”

  “You don’t believe in ghosts Mr. Garrison?” Victoria asked, almost playfully, in Robert’s opinion.

  “Ma’am, I have worked in buildings as old as this country and not once have I encountered something I could not explain,” he replied with confidence.

  Placing the plans on the table, he watched her cross over and pick up the first of Charlotte’s diaries. He noted the surprise on her face as she realized what she was holding.

  “I’m sorry I should have asked first. I found a wealth of information on how this place was built in there.”

  “Where did you find these?” she asked as she paged through the volume in her hand.

  “In the trunks in the attic. I found the key you left in the kitchen, so I presumed you knew.”

  “I left no key,” she responded without surprise.

  “It was on the counter near the butler’s pantry,” he replied, confused at her response.

  “You say they contain information about the house?” she asked, apparently changing the subject.

  “Why, yes. Charlotte provided great detail in her diary entries about what she wanted and later what was accomplished as the construction progressed,” he replied.

  “Then you needed these for your work, so it was quite fortunate you found the key when you did,” she stated as she carefully set the volume on the table.

  Walking from the room without saying another word, Robert hurried to catch up with the older woman. Leading her through the house, he pointed out the various changes they intended to make, all to restore the house to its original glory. In several places, he questioned Victoria about what she remembered from her childhood, as it was unclear to him how the original structure was built.

  “Be patient and listen to the house, Robert. It will help you find what you need, as it provided the key,” she replied in a Zen-like response.

  Bidding him farewell, he escorted her to her car and watched her drive away, no clearer on who was approving his plans.

  ----*----

  In desperate need of a shower, Robert opted for returning to his rental for the night while leaving the plans on the folding table for inspection. As outlined in the buyer’s agreement, he was to leave his designs out for a review rather than scheduling the usual plan review meeting.

  Mentally acknowledging it as highly unusual, he did as instructed, locking up for the night as he ushered Hunter into the Jeep and headed north. Leaving both the lantern and a flashlight on the table, he hoped whoever did the review was both competent and descriptive of any changes they wanted.

  After a hot shower and a good meal, he jumped on his laptop and started addressing all the things he had been neglecting since finding the house. His inbox contained several items related to the restoration projects he had taken on here in Jacksonville, the original intent of his visit. Working for several hours, he filed the paperwork he needed with the city and answered the few remaining questions from his clients.

  When he had finished, it was clear that his day tomorrow was going to be tied up in meetings. The owners of both the Methodist Church and the Sammis House projects were anxious for him to begin work. Scheduling late morning meetings for both locations, one right after the other, he first planned on running to his house where he hoped to find his plans approved and ready for filing with the city.

  Just before retiring for the night, he found his mind wandering back to thoughts of Charlotte, wondering if she might visit him in his dreams once more.

  ----*----

  Early the next morning, Robert headed south, anxious to see if the Foxworth representative had made good on their promise. Leaving Hunter at his rental as he had a lot of running around to do, he made his way through the early morning traffic, not stopping until he arrived at the house.

  The front gates stood wide open, although there were no other vehicles on site yet. Pulling up in front, he rapidly got out and headed up the steps, taking several at once. Quickly unlocking the door, he went directly to the parlor where he found the plans laid out exactly as he had left them the night before. His disappointment was short-lived however, as he noted the hint of color on the otherwise black and white sheets.

  On closer inspection, he found a CF initialed in the lower right of each page. In red, so it stood out clearly in the title block, someone had initialed in the approver section. The plan packet contained floor plans for the first and second floors, as well as several elevations pages depicting the front, rear and sides of the house. On some of the last sheets were detailed construction instructions, these referring to the ornate trim and other decorative items as well as construction details. Here he found one of his roof sections details X’d out and a hand sketch in its place, explaining the change desired.

  While only a minor alteration, and mostly decorative in nature, it took Robert by surprise. It was something he would expect only a trained and experienced builder to request. It was definitely old school and more labor intensive, but a good building practice and looked great. He was also slightly embarrassed as it was a better design than what he had proposed.

  Placing his own initials next to the sketch, he hoped the city would accept them as is or he was going to need to get the change put in the drawing and reapproved. Rolling the plans up, he tucked them under one arm and headed out the door, happy to be able to begin work.

  Dressed to meet with clients, he exited the house and climbed back into his Jeep, headed to town once more.

  Chapter 8

  Foxworth Landing, mid 1858

  It had taken close to eight months from the beginning of construction before the house was finished and ready for Charlotte to move into. Still sparsely furnished, it held the basics she needed to begin her life there. As it was now just past her eighteenth birthday, her father was resistant to allowing her to take possession alone.

  Before nearing completion, there had always been a number of workmen nearby, all handpicked by her father and trustworthy to a fault. Now, with the last of the finish work almost complete, she would be left alone in the house, with no one to assist her should trouble arise. Charlotte was dreading the decision her father was laying at h
er feet.

  “Why can’t I move in now?” she asked her father as they sat in the parlor of the family home in Jacksonville.

  “Charlotte, you are a remarkable young woman and have achieved many great things, but it isn’t right for you to be alone in that house. Like it or not, it’s time you considered marriage,” he began.

  “I know where you are going with this, Father, and I am not surrendering myself and all I have built to an insufferable pompous lout,” she snapped.

  “Jefferson is a bit of a dandy, I will admit, but his father is getting him well in hand. I think you will find him surprising as you get to know him better.”

  “Besides, I have placed the house and property in trust, insuring your continued ownership after marriage. Jefferson’s family is quite wealthy, and he is more than capable of providing for you,” he added as a way of defusing her arguments.

  “So, you are saying that for me to get my house, I must marry Jefferson.” The resignation in her voice was plain to even her.

  “It is your dowry, Charlotte. I have been quite clear on that all along,” he replied patiently.

  “But Father,” she began.

  “Charlotte, a dowry is what a wife brings to a marriage to ensure their happiness,” he said, cutting her off.

  Charlotte could see the conviction on his face as he stared her down. She could feel her dreams of a life on the river devoid of family burdens slipping from her grasp. She had hoped, if only for a while, that she would be given the liberty of running Foxworth Landing on her own. Now it appeared her only path to that end was marriage.

  Their courtship was brief, and pressured by her father, they quickly wed. So it was that Charlotte Foxworth Waters found herself on a European honeymoon before taking possession of her beloved house. Instead of her dream beginnings on the banks of the St. Johns, she was traveling through Europe with a man she could barely tolerate.

  “Jefferson, why must you be so extravagant!” she declared as they walked through the display area of the ceramics foundry near London.