by Anne Rice
Before Slattery even stopped at the curb, she had the door open. She climbed out of the car and gathered up her shoulder bag.
Then she found herself staring at Slattery as he handed her the suitcase from the trunk. The chill passed over her again, slowly, uncomfortably. She saw malice in his eyes. What an ordeal the night had been for him. He was so eager. And he disliked her so much. Nothing in her manner, either personally or professionally, evoked a finer response in him. He simply disliked her. She could taste it as she took the suitcase from his hand.
“Good luck, Rowan,” he said, with a metallic cheerfulness. I hope you don’t come back.
“Slat,” she said, “thank you for everything. And there’s something else I should tell you. I don’t think … Well, there’s a good possibility I may not come back.”
He could scarcely conceal his delight. She felt almost sorry for him, watching the tense movement of his lips as he tried to keep his expression neutral. But then she felt a great warm, wondrous delight herself.
“It’s just a feeling,” she said. (And it’s great!) “Of course I’ll have to tell Lark in my own time, and officially-”
“-Of course.”
“But go ahead and hang your pictures on the office walls,” she continued. “And enjoy the car. I guess I’ll send for it sooner or later, but probably later. If you want to buy it, I’ll give you the bargain of your life.”
“What would you say to ten grand for it, cash, I know it’s-”
“That will do it. Write me a check when I send you my new address.” With an indifferent wave, she walked off towards the glass doors.
The sweet excitement washed over her like sunlight. Even sore-eyed and sluggishly weary, she felt a great sense of momentum. At the ticket desk, she specified first class, one way.
She drifted into the gift shop long enough to buy a pair of big dark glasses, which struck her as very glamorous, and a book to read-an absurd male fantasy of impossible espionage and relentless jeopardy, which seemed slightly glamorous too.
The New York Times said it was hot in New Orleans. Good that she had worn the white linen, and she felt pretty in it. For a few moments, she lingered in the lounge, brushing her hair, and taking care with the pale lipstick and cream rouge she hadn’t touched in years. Then she slipped on the dark glasses.
Sitting in the plastic chair at the gate, she felt absolutely anchorless. No job, no one in the house in Tiburon. And Slat double-clutching Graham’s car all the way back to San Francisco. You can have it, Doctor. No regret, no worry. Free.
Then she thought of her mother, dead and cold on a table at Lonigan and Sons, beyond the intervention of scalpels, and the old darkness crept over her, right amid the eerie monotonous fluorescent lights and the shining early morning air commuters with their briefcases and their blue all-weather suits. She thought of what Michael had said about death. That it was the only supernatural event most of us ever experience. And she thought that was true.
The tears came again, silently. She was glad she had the dark glasses. Mayfairs at the funeral, lots and lots of Mayfairs …
She fell asleep as soon as she was settled on the plane.
Nineteen
THE PILE Of THE MAYFAIR WITCHES
PART VI
The Mayfair Family from 1900 through 1929
RESEARCH METHODS IN THE TWENTIETH CENTURY
As mentioned earlier, in our introduction to the family in the nineteenth century, our sources of information about the Mayfair family became ever more numerous and illuminating with each passing decade.
As the family moved towards the twentieth century, the Talamasca maintained all of its traditional kinds of investigators. But it also acquired professional detectives for the first time. A number of such men worked for us in New Orleans and still do. They have proved excellent not only at gathering gossip of all sorts but at investigating specific questions through reams of records, and at interviewing scores of persons about the Mayfair family, much as an investigative “true crime” writer might do today.
These men seldom if ever know who we are. They report to an agency in London. And though we still send our own specially trained investigators to New Orleans on virtual “gossip-gathering sprees” and carry on correspondence with numerous other watchers, as we have all through the nineteenth century, these private detectives have greatly improved the quality of our information.
Yet another source of information became available to us in the late nineteenth and twentieth century, which we-for want of a better phrase-will call family legend. To wit, though Mayfairs are often absolutely secretive about their contemporaries’, and very leery of saying anything whatsoever about the family legacy to outsiders, they had begun by the 1890s to repeat little stories and anecdotes and fanciful tales about figures in the dim past.
Specifically, a descendant of Lestan who would say absolutely nothing about his dear cousin Mary Beth when invited by a stranger at a party to gossip about her, nevertheless repeated several quaint stories about Great-aunt Marguerite, who used to dance with her slaves. And later the grandson of that very cousin repeated quaint stories about old Miss Mary Beth, whom he never knew.
Of course much of this family legend is too vague to be of interest to us, and much concerns “the grand plantation life” which has become mythic in many Louisiana families and does not shed light upon our obsessions. However, sometimes these family legends tie in quite shockingly with bits of information we have been able to gather from other sources.
And when and where they have seemed especially illuminating, I have included them. But the reader must understand “family legend” always refers to something being told to us recently about someone or something in the “dim past.”
Yet another form of gossip which came to the fore in the twentieth century is what we call legal gossip-and that is, the gossip of legal secretaries, legal clerks, lawyers, and judges who knew the Mayfairs or worked with them, and the friends and families of all these various non-Mayfair persons.
Because Julien’s sons, Barclay, Garland, and Cortland, all became distinguished lawyers, and because Carlotta Mayfair was a lawyer, and because numerous grandchildren of Julien also went into law, this network of legal contacts has tended to grow larger than one might suppose. But even if this had not been the case, the financial dealings of the Mayfairs have been so extensive that many, many lawyers have been involved.
When the family began to squabble in the twentieth century, when Carlotta began to fight over the custody of Stella’s daughter; when there were arguments about the disposition of the legacy, this legal gossip became a rich source of interesting details.
Let me add in closing that the twentieth century saw even greater and more detailed record keeping in general than the nineteenth. And our paid investigators of the twentieth century availed themselves of these numerous public records concerning the family. Also as time went on, the family was mentioned more and more in the press.
THE ETHNIC CHARACTER OF THE CHANGING FAMILY
As we carry this narrative towards the year 1900, we should note that the ethnic character of the Mayfair family was changing.
Though the family had begun as a Scottish-French mix, incorporating in the next generation the blood of the Dutchman Petyr van Abel, it had become after that almost exclusively French.
In 1826, however, with the marriage of Marguerite Mayfair to the opera singer Tyrone Clifford McNamara, the legacy family began to intermarry fairly regularly with Anglo-Saxons.
Other branches-notably the descendants of Lestan and Maurice-remained staunchly French, and if and when they moved to New Orleans they preferred to live “downtown” with other French-speaking Creoles, in or around the French Quarter or on Esplanade Avenue.
The legacy family, with Katherine’s marriage to Darcy Monahan, became firmly ensconced in the uptown “American” Garden District. And though Julien Mayfair (half Irish himself) spoke French all his life, and married a French-speaking cousin
, Suzette, he gave his three boys distinctly American or Anglo names, and saw to it that they received American educations. His son Garland married a girl of German-Irish descent with Julien’s blessing. Cortland also married an Anglo-Saxon girl, and eventually Barclay did also.
As we have already noted Mary Beth was to marry an Irishman, Daniel McIntyre, in 1899.
Though Katherine’s sons Clay and Vincent spoke French all their lives, both married Irish-American girls-Clay the daughter of a well-to-do hotel owner, and Vincent the daughter of an Irish-German brewer. One of Clay’s daughters became a member of the Irish Catholic Order of the Sisters of Mercy (following in the footsteps of her father’s sister), to which the family contributes to this day. And a great-granddaughter of Vincent entered the same order.
Though the French Mayfairs worshiped at the St. Louis Cathedral in the French Quarter, the legacy family began to attend services at their parish church, Notre Dame, on Jackson Avenue, one of a three-church complex maintained by the Redemptorist Fathers which sought to meet the needs of the waterfront Irish and German immigrants as well as the old French families. When this church was closed in the 1920s a parish chapel was established on Prytania Street in the Garden District, quite obviously for the rich who did not want to attend either the Irish church of St. Alphonsus or the German church of St. Mary’s.
The Mayfairs attended Mass at this chapel, and indeed residents of First Street attend Mass there to this day. But as far back as 1899, the Mayfairs began to use the Irish church of St. Alphonsus-a very large, beautiful, and impressive structure-for important occasions.
Mary Beth was married to Daniel McIntyre in St. Alphonsus Church in 1899, and every First Street Mayfair baptism since has been held there. Mayfair children-after their expulsion from better private schools-went to St. Alphonsus parochial school for brief periods.
Some of our testimony about the family comes from Irish Catholic nuns and priests stationed in this parish.
After Julien died in 1914, Mary Beth was rarely heard to speak French, even to the French cousins, and it may be that the language died out in the legacy family. Carlotta Mayfair has never been known to speak French; and it is doubtful that Stella or Antha or Deirdre knew more than a few words of any foreign language.
Our investigators observed on numerous occasions that the speech of the twentieth-century Mayfairs-Carlotta; her sister, Stella; Stella’s daughter, Antha; and Antha’s daughter, Deirdre-showed distinct Irish traits. Like many New Orleanians, they had no discernible French or southern American accent. But they tended to call people they knew by both their names, as in “Well, how are you now, Ellie Mayfair?” and to speak with a certain lilt and certain deliberate repetitions which struck the listeners as Irish. A typical example would be this fragment picked up at a Mayfair funeral in 1945: “Now don’t you tell me that story, now, Gloria Mayfair, you know I won’t believe such a thing and shame on you for telling it! And poor Nancy with all she has on her mind, why, she’s a living saint and you know she is, if ever there was one!”
With regard to appearance, the Mayfairs are such a salad of genes that any combination of coloring, build, or facial characteristics can appear at any time in any generation. There is no characteristic look. Yet some members of the Talamasca aver that a study of all the existing photographs, sketches, and reproductions of paintings in our files does reveal a series of recurring types.
For example, there is a group of tall blond Mayfairs (including Lionel Mayfair) who resemble Petyr van Abel, all of whom have green eyes and strong jaw lines.
Then there is a group of very pale, delicately built Mayfairs who are invariably blue-eyed and short, and this group includes not only the original Deborah but also Deirdre Mayfair, the present beneficiary and “witch” and the mother of Rowan.
A third group of dark-eyed, dark-haired Mayfairs with very large bones includes Mary Beth Mayfair, and her uncles Clay and Vincent, and also Angélique Mayfair of Saint-Domingue.
Another group of smaller black-eyed, black-haired Mayfairs looks distinctly French, and every one of this group has a small round head and rather prominent eyes and overly curly hair.
Lastly, there is a group of very pale, cold-looking Mayfairs, all blond, with grayish eyes and fairly delicate of build, though always tall, and this group includes Charlotte of Saint-Domingue (the daughter of Petyr van Abel); Marie Claudette, who brought the family to Louisiana; Stella’s daughter, Antha Mayfair; and her granddaughter-Dr. Rowan Mayfair.
Members of the order have also noted some very specific resemblances. For instance, Dr. Rowan Mayfair of Tiburon, California, strongly resembles her ancestor Julien Mayfair, much more than she does any blond members of the family.
And Carlotta Mayfair in her youth strongly resembled her ancestor Charlotte.
(This investigator feels obligated to note with regard to this entire subject of looks that he does not see all this in these pictures! There are similarities, but the differences far outweigh them! The family does not look distinctly Irish, French, Scottish, or anything else.)
In any discussion of Irish influence and Irish traits we should remind ourselves that the history of this family is such that one can never be certain who is the father of any child. And as the later “legends” repeated in the twentieth century by descendants will show, the incestuous entanglements of each generation were not really secret. Nevertheless an Irish cultural influence is definitely discernible.
We should also note-for what it’s worth-that the family in the late 1800s began to employ more and more Irish domestic servants, and these servants became for the Talamasca priceless sources of information. How much they contributed to our vision of the family as Irish is not easy to determine.
The hiring of these Irish workers had nothing to do with the family’s Irish identity, per se. It was the trend in the neighborhood of the period, and many of these Irish-Americans lived in the so-called Irish Channel or riverfront neighborhood lying between the Mississippi wharves and Magazine Street, the southernmost boundary of the Garden District. Some of them were live-in maids and stable boys; others came to work by the day, or only on certain occasions. And as a whole, they were not as loyal to the Mayfair family as the colored and black servants were; and they talked much more freely about what went on at First Street than servants of past decades.
But though the information they made available to the Talamasca is extremely valuable, it is information of a certain kind and must be evaluated carefully.
The Irish servants working in and around the house tended on the whole to believe in ghosts, in the supernatural, and in the power of the Mayfair women to make things happen. They were what we must call highly superstitious. Hence their stories of what they saw or heard sometimes border on the fantastic, and often contain vivid and lurid passages of description.
Nevertheless, this material is-for obvious reasons-extremely significant. And much of what was recounted by the Irish servants has-for us-a familiar ring to it.
All things considered, it is not unfair to say in summary that by the first decade of this century the First Street Mayfairs thought of themselves as Irish, often making remarks to that effect; and that they emerged in the consciousness of many who knew them-servants and peers alike-as almost stereotypically Irish in their madness and eccentricity and penchant for the morbid. Several critics of the family have called them “raving Irish loonies.” And a German priest of St. Alphonsus Church once described them as existing in “a perpetual state of Celtic gloom.” Several neighbors and friends referred to Mary Beth’s son, Lionel, as a “raving Irish drunk,” and his father, Daniel McIntyre, was certainly considered to be one, by just about every bartender on Magazine Street.
Perhaps it is safe to say that with the death of “Monsieur Julien” (who was in fact half Irish) the house on First Street lost the very last of its French or Creole character. Julien’s sister, Katherine, and his brother, Rény, had already preceded him to the grave, and so had his daughter, Jeann
ette. Thereafter-in spite of the huge family gatherings which included French-speaking cousins by the hundreds-the core family was an Irish-American Catholic family.
As the years passed, the French-speaking branches lost their Creole identity as well, as have so many other Louisiana Creole families. The French language has all but died out in every known branch. And as we move towards the last decade of the twentieth century, it is difficult to find a true French-speaking Mayfair descendant anywhere.
This brings us to one other crucial observation-which is all too easily overlooked when proceeding with this narrative.
With the death of Julien, the Mayfair family may have lost the last member who really knew its history. We cannot know. But it seems more than likely. And as we converse more with descendants and gather more of their preposterous legends about the plantation days, it seems a certainty.
As a consequence, from 1914 on, any member of the Talamasca investigating the Mayfair family could not help but be aware that he or she knew more about the family than the family appeared to know about itself. And this has led to considerable confusion and stress on the part of our investigators.
Even before Julien’s death, the question of whether or not to attempt contact with the family had become a pressing one for the order.
After the death of Mary Beth, it became agonizing.
But we must now continue our story, backtracking to the year 1891, so that we may focus sharply upon Mary Beth Mayfair, who will carry us into the twentieth century, and who was perhaps the last of the truly powerful Mayfair Witches.
We know more about Mary Beth Mayfair than we know about any other Mayfair Witch since Charlotte. Yet when all the information is examined, Mary Beth remains a mystery, revealing herself to us in only occasional blinding flashes through the anecdotes of servants and family friends. Only Richard Llewellyn gave us a truly intimate portrait, and as we have already seen, Richard knew very little about Mary Beth’s business interests or her occult powers. She seems to have fooled him, as she fooled everyone around her, into believing that she was very simply a strong woman, when the truth was far more complex than that.