Stepping
Back In Time: Real Life Inspiration for Fictional Twin Oaks Plantation
I love old homes, especially ones steeped in our
country’s history. I’ve visited Williamsburg, Monticello, Mount Vernon, and Revolution-era
homes in Charleston, and both Revolution and antebellum homes in Brattonsville,
South Carolina. Each has its unique charm and history. Experiencing them evoked
many ideas for stories, some contemporary and some based on their histories.
As I started writing my Ghosts of Roseville series,
I (along with a few adventurous friends) journeyed to two plantations,
including the Rattle
and Snap Plantation located outside of Columbia, Tennessee.
My purpose was research, as the series is set in a fictional haunted plantation,
Twin Oaks, in Tennessee. I wanted to see for myself the construction
techniques, to find out what the interior rooms were called, and how they were
used. I wanted to be able to make the setting its own character in the story,
so had to experience the ambiance of an antebellum plantation house. But I had
not expected to be utterly swept away by the grand architecture and amazingly
beautiful furnishings within the confines of the plantation home itself. Rattle
and Snap is currently owned by Dr. Michael and Bobbi Kaslow, and they are
working to continue the museum quality restoration of the property and its
exhibits. They are doing a stellar job of it, too! Bobbi proved a delightful
storyteller as well as historian of the plantation’s original owners, George
and Sally Polk, along with the subsequent owners.
The first glimpse of the front entry to the 1840s
antebellum home made my jaw drop as I gaped at the gorgeous setting even as I
tried to imagine arriving in a carriage pulled by horses instead of horsepower.
Bobbi started the tour
by sitting us all down for a quick history lesson. We were seated on the back
porch in comfortable chairs while she regaled us with the origins of the land
grant that eventually included the Rattle and Snap plantation. Apparently, William
Polk, George’s father, played a game of chance with his brother-in-law who
happened to be the governor of North Carolina. The game of Rattle and Snap
involved shaking beans (the rattle part of the game) and then tossing them with
a “snap” of the wrist, so something like a dice game, though the specific rules
apparently have been lost to history.
The
Polks were very wealthy, as evidenced by the inclusion of 10 columns, which
Bobbi revealed equaled in cost what the rest of the house cost ($42,000 in the
1840s, or approximately $2.2 million today). The Polks definitely enjoyed
living in their home and entertaining guests, and they did both in a grand
fashion!
While
the outside of the plantation is stunning, the inside far surpassed the
exterior. Each room features representative period furniture along with a few
pieces that remained in the Polk family after the Civil War devastated their
financial situation. Walking among the beautiful furniture, seeing the
portraits and landscapes hanging on the walls, and browsing the collectibles
resting on shelves and tables, all combined to create a sense of having traveled
back in time. I could picture the hoop skirted ladies and gentlemen dressed in
their finery, perhaps with a saber hanging in its scabbard. I think that’s why
I enjoy exploring old historic buildings, for the spark to my imagination that
results. As you read Traces and Remnants (Books 1 and 2 of the Ghosts of
Roseville series), I hope you’ll spot hints of my experience at the actual
plantation in the fictional Twin Oaks.
Do
you like touring historic homes? Why or why not? Do you have a favorite home
you liked more than the others?
Remnants
Ghosts of Roseville
Book 2
Betty Bolté
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Liquid Silver Books
Date of Publication: October 27, 2014
Ebook: 978-1-62210-159-7
Paperback: 978-1-50248-107-8
ASIN:
Number of pages: 331
Word Count: 70,800
Cover Artist: Lyn Taylor
Book Description:
Paulette O’Connell is focused on building her costume and home decorating business in order to ensure a stable home for her unborn child. When she accidentally summons her grandfather’s ghost, he demands she needed him and must learn the reason before he’ll reveal how to banish him. Meanwhile, a sexy chemist desires her attention despite her refusal to act upon her heart’s desires. After all, following her heart only lands her in trouble.
Zak Markel journeys to Roseville in the desperate hunt for the missing ingredient for the Elixir of Life he hopes will save his brother’s eyesight and career. But he discovers more than he bargained for when his search turns up the gorgeous woman of his dreams, distracting him from his focus at the worst possible time, even though she staunchly refuses to allow him past her defenses.
Can he convince Paulette to open her mind to possibilities and follow her heart to true happiness before it’s too late?
Excerpt:
Paulette’s attention
fixed upon a black, flat-topped trunk with silver hinges and hasp. It hunkered
in front of the mannequin as though daring her to approach. She straightened
her back, one hand automatically shielding her unborn baby, and made her way
across the room until she stopped before the ebony container. She shook off her
reluctance to touch it, since she needed to move it to reach the dummy.
Grasping the handles, she pulled, but it didn’t budge. She tugged again but
barely succeeded in shifting it an inch. What weighed so much in such a small
trunk? Leaning down, she slowly raised the hasp and then the lid until the
meager illumination in the room enabled her to peek inside.
She lifted a
packet of newspapers tied together with a satin ribbon. Peering closer, she
determined they dated from the 1940s. Not ancient, after all. Not like the
letters and journals from the mid-1800s found in other trunks. Still, old
enough. Beneath the papers, a large maroon leather book nestled among men’s
suits and trousers. She spotted an aged white cravat and matching formal shirt,
fingering the silky material with delight. Silks and satins speared delight
through her soul. Their textures and sounds blended into a symphony of
pleasure. She grabbed the heavy book and hauled it from its nesting place,
intent on reaching the luxurious fabrics.
The leather
warmed in her hands as she focused on the decadent silk cravat. Searching for a
safe place to deposit the book among the dusty boxes and trunks, her fingers
tingled then began to burn as though touching a flame. Ouch. She jerked her
hands apart then tried to catch the book before it dropped from her hands. When
it collided with the hardwood floor, it fell open, its pages fluttering before
settling on an illuminated text. The ornate drawing of a great horned owl
poised to strike, beak open, talons ready to snare its prey, curled around
fancy script words. She peered at the sheet, reluctant to touch the page after
the previous singeing of her fingers, but curious as to the mysterious message.
She read the poem silently, and then sounded it out loud, pondering the
meaning.
“Before the
father came the father.
“Return the one
gone before.
“Restore the
bygone to the present.
“This I ask and
nothing more.”
“How strange.”
She gingerly reached to retrieve the book and restore it to its proper place.
With a roar of
wind, the door banged shut behind her, startling a gasp from her compressed
lips. The pages fluttered and whipped. The packet of newspapers soared into the
air, its ribbon untying in the chaos, allowing the sheets to fly around like
crazed paper airplanes. Her jaw dropped open, a gasp followed by a woman
keening in fear. Her voice. Stop it. Get a grip. She swallowed the growing
terror. She whirled around, practically spinning like a ceiling fan on high as
she tried to determine what caused the wind careening about the room. An eerie
whine preceded what sounded like a wolf howling to the moon. She gulped, alarm
sizzling down her spine. Grizabella arched her back, and hissed at the
commotion, ears flat, tail pointed to the ceiling. Paulette exhaled, her breath
visible in the chilled room. She crossed her arms both to warm them and to
protect her child.
Quiet fell along
with the papers settling like oversized snowflakes. She blinked three times,
trying to erase the sight before her. But blinking didn’t work. She gaped at
the tall, gray-bearded man in his impeccable suit and angled fedora. Gray
highlighted his close-cropped black hair and matched his friendly eyes. He
seemed vaguely familiar, yet she had never met him. Of that, she was certain.
She’d remember him.
“What a
surprise.” He reached toward her, palms up. “How can I help you, my dear?”
“Stay there.”
She held out a hand, palm facing him, and backed up until her legs bumped
against the open trunk.
Trapped, she had
no escape but to move past the man. Or apparition. Or whatever. She swallowed
the fear threatening to make itself known. Perhaps she should yell for
Meredith. She would know what to do with this specter. So much for the ghosts
of Twin Oaks resting peacefully. If only she’d never realized she could
interact with spirits.
“Paulette, my
precious, you needn’t fear your own grandfather.” He moved toward her, reaching
for her.
“No.” Shaking
her head, she held up both hands indicating for him to stay back. Then motioned
for him to leave, shooing him as if he could fly away. Or dissolve into thin
air. Which, of course, he probably could. “Whoever you are, you don’t belong
here. Go away.”
Grizabella
growled and hissed from her spot near the wall. Hairs along her spine stood
straight, revealing the depth of her dislike of the man’s presence.
“I was content
where I was.”
“Then why did
you come here? Wh-what do you want?” Paulette shivered and wrapped her arms
about her waist to still their trembling. The move left her feeling more
vulnerable by removing the sense of a barrier between her and the apparition.
He tilted his
head and smiled, dropping one hand to his side. “More to the point, what do you
want? You summoned me.”
“If I did, it
was an accident.” He must understand she had not meant to bring him from
wherever he’d come from. Why did crap like this happen to her? Nothing in her
life ever transpired as she intended. “Please, you must leave. You don’t belong
here.”
“Now, that’s not
true. I belong here more than you do, even. So let’s get acquainted, shall we?
Then you can tell me why you called for me.”
When he started
toward her, she screamed, her hands shielding her baby.
About the Author:
Betty Bolté writes both historical and contemporary stories featuring strong, loving women and brave, compassionate men. No matter whether the stories are set in the past or the present, she loves to include a touch of the paranormal. In addition to her romantic fiction, she’s the author of several nonfiction books and earned a Master’s in English in 2008. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, the Historical Novel Society, the Women’s Fiction Writers Association, and the Authors Guild.
Get to know her at www.bettybolte.com
Newsletter: www.bettybolte.com/newsletter.htm
Facebook: www.facebook.com/AuthorBettyBolte
Twitter: @BettyBolte
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Amazon: www.amazon.com/author/bettybolte
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