Monday Morsel: The Portrait

THE PORTRAIT

by Augustina Van Hoven

     Catherine tried to quell her nerves as she pulled into the parking lot of Hamilton House. She had avoided it for every one of the eighteen years since she had fainted in the ballroom. Now that she was older, she didn’t want to see the ghost her grandmother had told her about. But she had to be here; she didn’t have a choice. The mayor wanted to hold her fundraiser here, and Catherine, as event planner, was in charge. She was surprised at how small the house appeared.

     I guess everything looks bigger when you’re ten years old. 

     She grabbed a small bag before getting out of the car. It contained her tablet, her sketchbook, and a measuring tape. She took a deep breath and headed for the front door. A few steps into the house, she was met by Carolyn Shelby, the current caretaker.
     “Good morning, Mrs. Shelby. I’m sure the mayor told you that I was coming over to take some measurements for the charity fundraiser.” She had to look down at the older woman. Mrs. Shelby was barely taller than five feet. “I need to know the exact width and length of the room. I also need to know the size of the lawn and garden area. I know that, historically, the musicians would remain in the ballroom, but I was thinking of having them outside somewhere on the lawn. Given the size of this room and the night temperatures lately, I think a lot of people will be more comfortable outside where there is a possibility of a breeze. This room looks like it could get quite warm with a lot of people dancing in it.” She pulled on the tab to her measuring tape.
     “When Mrs. Hamilton had a larger orchestra for an event, she would put them in a specially designed place in the yard. When you finish measuring in here, I’ll show it to you. It’s basically a niche of grass tucked in among the border trees and bushes. It’s quite clever, really. It keeps the orchestra in plain sight but out of the way of the dancers.” Mrs. Shelby seemed to become friendlier as she talked about the house. She reached out her hand to help with the measuring tape, but Catherine stood staring out the window.
     “Let’s take a look outside before we measure the ballroom. I’d like to see the orchestra niche to make sure it will work, or I’ll have to rethink my plans for the party.”
     “Certainly.” Mrs. Shelby led the way across the room and opened the French doors on the other side.
      Catherine stepped onto the lawn, appreciating the cool air after the heat of the ballroom. Yes, being outside would be much better than staying in. Mrs. Shelby led the way to the orchestra spot. Someone had done an excellent job planning the area. The orchestra area was shaded by three large maple trees, and the musicians could sit with their backs to the setting sun. She pulled out her measuring tape. Mrs. Shelby held out her hand; Catherine gave her the pull tab of the tape and they proceeded to measure the area.
     When they finished, Catherine noted the footage on her tablet. “Can we exmine that clump of bushes with the iron fence? It sort of sticks out like a sore thumb on this manicured lawn.”
     “Yes, it is an odd thing. When David Hamilton donated the house to the community, he did so with the explicit instructions that the iron fence and the bushes it surrounds never be removed. If that happened, it would nullify the donation and the house would revert to the oldest of his direct decedents.”
     Catherine raised an eyebrow. “What? That sounds ridiculous. What’s inside there anyway? Is it hiding a grave or something?”
     “No one knows. In the past a few of the gardeners have opened the gate and wandered inside, but apparently it is just a small open area inside the tall bushes. Everyone who did go inside said it felt odd in there, and no one ever went in twice.”
     “Well, let’s make sure no guests try to slip in there during the party. Maybe I can decorate the iron with something or wire the gate shut.” She made some notes on her tablet. “I’d better get the measurement of the ballroom now.
     Inside once again, Catherine noted the footage on her tablet.
     It was a good thing there was a garden outside with a good lawn that could be used because this room was too small for the event. They repeated the process for the length of the ballroom. Catherine couldn’t help but glance up at the portraits.
     “Do you know when those were painted?” She pointed to the wall.
     Mrs. Shelby beamed. “Yes, all the portraits of the family were done in 1880 with the exception of David’s wife. That one was painted in 1882.”
     “You know, I couldn’t find much about her at the library. She seemed to appear out of nowhere. I thought it was a big thing back then to have a listing of which prominent family a person’s spouse came from.” Catherine wound the measuring tape back into its case.
     “Yes, it was. All the prominent families married within their own class. It was sort of like the English gentry; titled people usually married other titled people and proudly displayed their family trees. You’d think there would be a listing for the family of Catherine Hamilton considering she married the only son and heir of Jacob Hamilton.”
     She walked toward the portraits and pointed to Eloise Hamilton. “You can find a lot about her in the history books. Her family was quite prominent in the Boston area, and I believe she was distantly related to one of the US presidents. Her two daughters married well, and there’s plenty of information about the families they married into.”
     She walked over to the next portrait of the handsome young man. “This is David Hamilton, and he was considered quite a catch in his day.”
     Catherine felt like she’d missed a step on the stairs.
     Mrs. Shelby walked toward the alcove and adjusted the drapes. She gasped.
     Catherine’s heart beat faster when she saw the look of shock on the woman’s face. She took a reluctant step forward and gazed at the portrait. She now saw what she hadn’t seen as a child. There on the wall was her own face staring back at her.


Want to read more?

They had only the ghost of a chance…

The first time Catherine went to the historic Hamilton House, she was looking for whatever haunted it. But what she found was even scarier: a portrait of a woman who looked exactly like her. But Catherine was not going to let a look-alike from another century—or a broken heart in the twenty-first--stop her. She would still put on the fund-raiser of the mayor's dreams so she could realize her goal: a bed-and-breakfast of her own.

David gave it all he had, but couldn't escape what felt like a life-sentence in his family's 19th-century prison. He wanted to go West, build his own business, and find his own wife. But his parents stymied him at every turn, choosing both the woman he would marry and the career he would follow. It wasn't until Catherine popped into his life—and into his arms—that he found hope again.

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