My husband Samuel was a Downs. In Louisiana, you just couldn’t make a finer “catch,” as my mother put it. The Downs family owned plantations, Uncle Solomon was a U.S. Senator, and the power and prestige of their slaves and properties offered vast advantages for a new blushing bride.
For me, Samuel built this manor home and farm. He often said our children would forever be wealthy, famous and a political powerhouse in the New Orleans area.
That was before the war, however, 150 years ago. Today it all belongs to the swamp, and no one remembers except the spirits.
Inspired by this weeks Friday Fictioneers prompt: