Baton Rouge
Louisiana
Reports had arrived back in Louisiana and back to the ears of her husband. Benjamin Chamberlain, prominent businessman in Louisiana. Thirty-five years her senior. Arranged the marriage with her father. It was a respectful marriage. They were not married long by that time. Not long enough to have any offspring. Another regret of his. A marriage certainly not full of fire and passion but of comfort and security. An alliance between two wealthy families that would create an additional generation of successful, powerful people in Louisiana.
His health was failing but he still wanted her to take this trip, albeit without him. Now he regretted doing so. Friends noticed that his health deteriorated immediately upon the news. As if he were shrinking. They realized that it was she that made him 'shine'.
Now she was lost forever. Night was the worst for Benjamin. Images of her in the sea trying to stay a float. Images of her going under. Now he was 'going under' because of the loss of her. She had become his light. The light had been suffocated, snuffed out. Guilt riddled him. How could someone so young and beautiful be gone before him? He found through this loss that he adored her. She was everything fine and magnificent. He would not be able to go on without her, he was certain of that. Friends tried to spur him on but his body, mind, soul would not have it.
He walked the hallways and rooms of their grand plantation home in a despondency, a melancholia, that no one and nothing could lift. She had enhanced their physical home so beautifully with new wallpapers and beautiful fabrics after they married. Even elaborate drapery for the grand passageways between rooms. Velvets with long silky fringe and tassels that spread across the top of the door frame, hanging down giving a lattice effect. The latest styles of the time. Old furniture reupholstered in the latest styles and fabrics. Beautiful tapestries and needle point rugs on beautifully polished oak floors. Heavily embroidered fabrics to enhance the glorious grand windows of the salon and library, dining room, sitting room. These things interested her.
She wanted Benjamin to be proud of her. He needed to entertain and she would make sure that their home was a source of pride and a source of joy for him. She had exquisite taste. She was refined and knew quality. She lacked nothing in both femininity and refinement, taste and culture. She was all loveliness. Everything she did matched her qualities and abilities.
He walked the garden and walked between the tall trees that lined their lane. He smelled the roses that she planted that crawled over the arbor, he looked at the garden that she managed with the gardener. He ran his thumb over the petals of the roses as though he were caressing her soft cheek. He touched a rose to his lips remembering the softness of hers.
She had touched everything in his life, house, garden, hearth and heart.
She was everywhere.
She was nowhere.
Benjamin fell into deep despair. He felt selfish now. She was lost at such a young age and never experienced a life fit for her. Never a love that she deserved. He should not have married her, for all he could give her was security. But she needed passion and love and enthusiasm. He was curmudgeon. He made her life miserable and he knew it. She bore it like no other woman he had ever known. There were no children that he could remember her by. There were no small faces that looked like hers.
He would spend most days in his bed or from time to time in the library sitting behind his desk. Mindlessly looking at their vast collection of books. He was no longer interested. No longer interested in anything. There was a common sadness throughout all their acquaintances and the household staff. No one could cease weeping. No one could escape the despair, the helplessness. The house and their lives were dark and black now. Word would have to be sent to her family. Her parents were deceased but there was sister and a brother in distant parts.
The funeral was solemn. No one spoke. All remained silent. Hannah was missing and so was her body. There was nothing there. As if they were mourning the air. A tomb stone was erected on the property where the Chamberlain ancestors were buried. Beautifully hand carved marble.
In memory
of my
beloved wife
Hannah Chamberlain
1823-1853
Gone but never forgotten
............
Date uncertain 1853
An Island off the coast of Cuba
Hannah wrote in someone else's journal,
"Days and nights pass. No sign of rescue. Did they have a funeral for me? Have they tried to search for us? What shall become of me if Samuel dies? Oh God, please do not let him die. I have changed a great deal. Spoiled and pampered I was, but no more. I forage for fresh water and berries and fruit of every kind. My skin is tanned and my back becomes strong. The sea water in my hair and the sea air in my nostrils. No longer a refined, fine lady but a savage of the survival kind. How long will this last? Perhaps forever. If I live here alone I shall certainly die young. Samuel makes no move. I have tried to make him comfortable. I even speak to him. Perhaps he can hear me. I tell him the stories of my past and the grand balls and galas that we attended and those that we entertained. All the beautiful ball gowns and long evening gloves. The handsome men in their finest evening clothes, twirling the ladies around and around on the shiny dance floor as the beautiful music played. Will I never see those again? No more afternoon teas with petit-fours and creamed cakes. No more sounds of hammer hitting string from the pianoforte. No more languor afternoons on the veranda fanning myself from the oppressive stillness of the afternoon heat. The air so still as though it were holding its breath. Remembering cooling myself as my favourite mint-julep trickled down my throat."
A favourite drink of hers consisting of bourbon, crushed ice, sugar, and fresh mint. She loved it served in a tall frosted glass. A lovely drink associated chiefly with the southern United States; Louisiana was famous for.
"My heart aches for those that I love who believe me dead. What a horror they are living now. If they only knew that I live and breathe."
Hannah brushed the wet strands of hair off her shiny face. She felt tears stirring up. She suppressed them. What was the point in crying? It would only make her weak. She could not afford that. She was attempting to open a coconut that had fallen from the tree high above her.
"Urrrgh!" She was so frustrated. Not strong enough to open it. Then she got an idea. She would crack it against one of the boulders that were strewn everywhere. That is exactly how they looked. As if God had thrown pebbles on the beach from heaven and there they lay for eternity. They looked as though they had been scattered. Some sticking out of the water, others on the beach.
Hannah started smashing the coconut on the rock. Using all her strength to do it. Several attempts proved useless.
She threw the coconut in the sand in frustration. She was hungry. She walked over to the items that she had spread over the boulders to dry. She occupied herself with the contents of the trunks that had washed ashore. So thrilled that there was paper in them that could be dried and then written on. Her stomach gnawed at her. She was hungry and felt weak. Staring out to sea at the ship that creaked there she was tempted to go out there and see if she could salvage some meat off the ship. Her mouth watered at the thought.
