with the assistance of a cane but he carried himself with an air of sophistication. The grey hair, wire framed glasses, and the sport coat all gave Charlotte the impression that this gentleman was, or may still be, some kind of professor.
“Mr. Anthony this is Ms...” the librarian started to say, but stopped when she realized that she didn’t know Charlotte’s name.
“Nice to meet you, Mr Anthony,” Charlotte said extending her hand. “My name is Charlotte. Charlotte Rowley.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms Rowley,” the gentleman said. “But to be honest, I much prefer for young ladies to call me Robert.”
“Okay Robert, and I prefer flirtatious older men to call me Charlotte,” she said with a smile.
Robert led Charlotte through a maze of book shelves to a table along the back wall of the library. In the typical form of the elderly who are happy just to have someone listen for a while, Robert proceeded to tell Charlotte all about himself. He had, in fact, been an English teacher at the local high school up until he had retired some years ago. He was also boastful of the fact that he was born and raised in Milton and was now the town’s oldest living resident.
“There I go again, talking about myself when you obviously came for my help, not to hear an old man chatter on.”
“True, I did come in the hope that you would be able to help me out, but I’ve enjoyed listening to you talk.”
“Now now, don’t kid an old kidder. How can I help you?”
“The librarian said that you worked on a book about the history of Milton. I was hoping you might be able to tell me a little history about the house my daughter and I recently moved into. The librarian seemed to think the house belonged to the old McDougall Estate.”
The look that came over Robert’s weathered face caused the hairs on the back of Charlotte’s neck to stand up and a chill to spread throughout her body.
“Now, that is a tragic story. What brings you to ask about this?” Robert asked with a concerned look.
Reluctant to reveal any of the details about the episodes with Becky and the things that had been happening around the house, she said, “I’ve always been a bit of a history buff. One of the things that drew me to the house was the Victorian design and the history a house like that must have.”
Though he seemed somewhat sceptical of Charlotte’s motives, Robert began to divulge the story behind the McDougall Estate.
“Let’s see now,” Robert started. “Your house was built in the 1890's, I believe it was 1894 but don’t quote me on that. It was built by one Jonathan McDougall shortly after this area was settled. It was quite a house for that era, but as the sole owner of McDougall Lumber Company, one of the biggest lumber companies of its day, he could easily afford it.
“Being of English descent, the McDougalls were well known for their sophistication and elegance. They were a centre post of the community and they often hosted elaborate parties and gatherings. I suppose that’s why it became known as the McDougall Estate,” Robert said.
“About the time of the Great Depression, Jonathan fell very ill and passed the lumber company on to his only child, a son by the name of James. Like his father, James was a very astute businessman who took great pride in the company and the social status that came with it. James worked very hard at maintaining the company and the family name, but the Depression was just too devastating and eventually it began to collapse. With little he could do to save the company, James concentrated his efforts on saving the family name and their social status.
“Unfortunately, things only got worse for James and his family. His father died knowing that the company he had worked so hard to establish was going down. James suffered a great deal of anguish over his failure to maintain the company and that soon began to effect other aspects of his life. To the rest of the community, James appeared to be handling the whole situation very well. But the same couldn't be said for his wife and teenage daughter who had to deal with his ever increasing depression.
“Trying to maintain a social status was hard enough with a desperately failing business, but just after Christmas in 1935 James was hit with yet another blow. His sixteen-year-old daughter, Elizabeth, came to him one day with the news that she was pregnant. Now at that time, for a young lady to get pregnant out of wedlock was an embarrassment to the entire family. Getting rid of the baby was out of the question in such a small and religious town, so the next best thing was to send Elizabeth away before the pregnancy started to show.
“The story James and his wife told the community was that their daughter was going away to an upscale boarding school. This, they thought, would embellish their social standing as opposed to the truth, which would have dishonoured the family name. Little did they know that behind their backs, speculation and rumour was circulating about the true cause for Elizabeth's sudden departure.
“Within a year of Elizabeth's departure, McDougall Lumber Company closed its doors for the last time. With his family falling apart and his business now completely belly up, James went into a deep state of depression from which he would never recover. Alcohol became his primary escape from the life he believed he could no longer control. And in the end it was the alcohol that finished him off.
“Returning from a Christmas party in December of 1939, James drove his Ford Model T pickup off of the road and into Crawford Lake. The following day, a passing farmer noticed tire tracks heading off the road and decided to investigate further. From the edge of the lake he could see nothing more than those tire tracks leading into a large opening in the ice. He notified police and by the end of the day a tow truck winched the pickup from the freezing water with the bodies of both James and his wife still inside.”
Charlotte had been so entranced by Robert’s story that even she was surprised to hear a gasp escape her lips.
“Are you okay?” Robert asked sounding deeply concerned. “Because I'm afraid it gets worse.”
“I'm fine,” Charlotte assured him. “But it gets worse?”
“’Fraid so. Are you sure you want me to continue?”
“Yes, please go on Robert. You are such a gifted story teller. I just got caught up in it.”
Robert continued with pride at being considered a talented story teller. “Now I'm not one to speculate but rumour at the time was that James' mishap was no accident.”
“Why would people say that?” Charlotte asked.
“Well, Crawford Lake would not have been on James' normal route home, so people began to question what he was doing out there so late at night. At the party he’d been seen drinking but nobody thought he would have been drunk enough to drive that far off the road and into the lake.
“It was ruled an accidental death which proved beneficial to Elizabeth who was the sole beneficiary of James' life insurance policy.
“Hearing of her parent's death the distraught Elizabeth, with her now three-year-old daughter, rushed back to the family home. It must have been a shock for Elizabeth when she returned to her beloved McDougall Estate and the town of Milton. The lumber mill was all boarded up and the gates were locked to keep trespassers out. McDougall Estate was looking less like an estate and more like a rundown old home. You see, the final years that James spent in the house had been filled with drinking and depression and very little upkeep of the property. Elizabeth quickly found out that the community had changed too and they now shunned both her, and her daughter. I've been told that some felt betrayed at being lied to about Elizabeth's situation. And others just shunned them because of her predicament.”
“That's sad,” Charlotte said.
“That it is. But you have to remember, at that time her situation was very unusual and highly frowned upon.
“After burying her parents, Elizabeth and her daughter moved back into McDougall Estate. She attempted to re-establish herself but, with no family and few friends for support, it was difficult. She soon turned to the ways of her father and became dependant on drinking to cope wit
h the situation.”
“But what about her daughter?”
“She unfortunately became the innocent victim of this tragedy. Elizabeth began to blame the child for everything that went wrong in her life. Not being there for her parents before they died, not being accepted by the community, and later she blamed her daughter for scaring away prospective husbands. Resentment soon turned to neglect and abuse.”
“How could she blame so much on a small child?”
“Who can possibly explain the twisted thoughts of someone in Elizabeth’s situation. She was little more than a child herself at the time. Then add alcohol to the situation, and your guess is as good as mine as to what drove her to do what she did,” Robert said sadly.
Detecting the changed tone in Robert's voice, Charlotte asked, “She didn't do something to that poor child, did she?”
“Yes, I'm afraid so. Are you sure you want to hear all this?”
“Yes, please go on,” Charlotte said urgently. As much as she was afraid of what she might hear next she knew that it may also explain what was happening with Becky.
“I believe it was late in the Fall of 1941 that the police received a frantic call from Elizabeth. 'Come quick, I think I've hurt my baby,' was all she said to the police. I remember this because that was the headline on the local paper the following day.
“The police arrived at the