Calypso's Island

Chapter 2- JOSEPHINE'S DIARY

She initially had her doubts about the place and her extended stay here. She assured herself that she'd be ok on her own. And besides, technically she wasn't on her own. The housekeeper came in three times a week and the yard boy was on the premises every day. Then Stephanie reminded herself that if Josephine could call this place home for so many years, what was a week or two on her part, considering that it was willed to her?

She just needed to get things organized. Get Josephine's old things together and give respect where it was due. Thankfully she had had the foresight to arrange for some goods to be sent to the estate before her arrival. Her wardrobe and the necessities that she required, namely her microwave and coffee maker, got there two days before her. Now she was set.

It was time to survey her new property. There was a grand, main hall flanked by large family rooms downstairs and the master bedroom adjourned other bedrooms on the second floor. There was an oversized kitchen on the flank, servants' quarters to the back, and the whole was fringed by porches and high windows hung with ferns.

But that was only the structure. What she loved most was the way history seeped from everything. There was artistry in every corner. She saw oiled, dark wood pillars and living room sets carved and embellished to an ideal. There were intricate, embroidery pieces, thick, lace curtains, velvets and old world, woven carpets.

The walls were also unique. They hosted heavy, dramatic frames that weren't made like that anymore. She ran her fingers over them to capture the texture and somehow preserve the beauty of it in her mind's eye. But there was more. The most interesting things were displayed within those mounts. She smiled to see a series of playful, Rococo styled art pieces by unknown artists. There were also sepia toned drawings of plantation days, Caribbean birds, black and white shots of Port-of-Spain from the 1920's and family scenes from the 40's.

It was a lush, personal museum. She could have just stood and stared all day, but there were trunks and wooden chests to unpack. She nagged herself into heading upstairs. Stephanie knew that she was walking on an actual, antique staircase and she wondered at the craftsmanship that had gone into it.

Those were her thoughts as she touched the doorknob of the master bedroom. That's when she saw it from the periphery, a narrow door in the middle of the row of bedrooms at the opposite side of the hall. She'd missed it before. Now she squinted, went to it, pushed and realized that she needed the key. Strange. It was the only locked room on the whole estate. But she remembered seeing a bunch of keys in the kitchen.

She headed back to the first floor. There it was hanging next to a string of dried garlic and the biggest iron pot she'd ever seen. In spite of the hassle, she felt she had a prize. What lay behind that door?

"What are you hiding Doux Doux?" she asked herself, using her pet name for her Great Grand Mother.

The second key she tried on the ring offered her entry, as if to answer her question. She found herself in a simple sitting room. It shouldn't have been here. The layout of the house dictated that this should have been just another bedroom. Maybe Josephine used this space as her study? She looked around. There was a traditional seating set upholstered with floral prints, a writing desk and an assortment of shelves stocking ornate lamps, albums, cookbooks and literature, nothing super secretive.

Then her foot bumped a small wooden chest on the ground. This looks like the type that would contain treasure, she mused. But was it even there before? She picked it up and placed it on the desk, studying the engraved patterns; there was a definite spider in the forest patter all over the heavy wood. The chest was locked. She sifted the keys on the ring, tried the smallest one and listened to that wonderful snapping sound as the chest opened for her. She smiled and looked down. What she saw brought on the spookiest feeling.

There was a note affixed to a massive leather diary and it was addressed directly to her.

My dear Stephanie,

If you're reading this, then you've received the monetary inheritance that I've willed to you. That's a small thing. This journal that you're holding in your hands is the true wealth of our household. It's a diary written by our family founder and first matriarch Angelique, and one of many accounts of the formidable women who guide our family line. They will make themselves known to you over time.

Treat this as your most valued possession, for as the chosen successor of this manuscript, more power will be revealed to you than you can imagine.

Your Great Grandmother,

Doux Doux - La

Stephanie was stunned and curious. What did Josephine mean in the last line of the note? What power? She had to find out. She fingered the old leather casing on the diary and touched the note again. The trunks could wait. The day could roll on. She took a seat on one of the comfortable upholstered chairs and held the diary with reverence.

She opened it and began.

Trinidad

May 1812

"Today I'm dressed like a lady. Mulatto or not that's what I am in my heart. I step off Mr. Witmoore's carriage with dignity in me. He even helps me down this time. He sees my fancy slippers and my good dress with the pricey lace and my pretty wide brimmed hat. He offers a compliment. His smile is broad when he gives it. He tips his hat and his words come out like a tune.

"You're an Angel today Miss Angelique. Just like your name. God bless you."

He calls me Miss. Well then. When I first came here he wouldn't even look me in the eyes.

"Merci Monsieur Witmoore. God's blessings and Bonjour."

But I don't know about that. His horses roll him along the walk and he's gone but here I am facing the big house. I turn around and take a moment to survey the land. The sugar mill is going in the distance and the field hands are feeding it as always. Cane goes in. Thrash comes out. And the water mill? It's broken again. The skilled hands are gathered around to fix it.

Then my eyes cross the neat cultivation plot and catch sight of the massive trees in the backdrop that skirt the property. I look at the clear blue skies above and feel a sense of assurance. We'll have sun today. Sun drives my Monsieur indoors and he doesn't stay out for too long. Bien. I'll have company, I'm thinking.

But then this wouldn't be a plantation estate without the noise that brings my attention to the foreground, to the field gang and their woes. There it is. Fay opens her mouth to the overseer and now it's trouble. That man is too abusive to begin with, so maybe she has a right to do it. Funny enough, her comrades don't seem to care. They look out and see me and they start up a field gang song, just to mock my presence and the child growing in my belly for 6 months now.

"She come from town

She feel she brown

She feel she French oui

Now she have belly."

Well that one sends me inside. I didn't come here to be insulted. I'm here to run my house. It's mine. Though the laws don't say so. Though I've got to take the back entrance. That doesn't matter. I'm no concubine. I'm a Lady here.

My child and I will prove it before the end. One way or another."

Stephanie was intrigued. She was getting an amazing insight into her heritage. But this was only the beginning. Josephine said she should read thoroughly and swiftly and power would be revealed to her. There would be no hesitation, Angelique was beckoning.