Part 3
Madame Devo had brought it herself, an unusually heavy piece, far denser than customary bridal veils. She insisted it be positioned forward, covering much of her daughter’s face. When I suggested this would obscure the bride’s features, the very purpose of a wedding portrait, Madame Deu became agitated, stating the veil was essential and must remain as positioned.
Jean Baptist’s entry continued, and Clare felt her chest tighten as she read. I positioned the couple as requested. Mr. Thornton standing, the bride seated, the heavy veil arranged to cast maximum shadow. Through my lens, I could see the bride trembling, not the nervous excitement of a young woman on her wedding day, but fear, unmistakable, profound fear. Mr.
Thornton kept his hand on her shoulder throughout the sitting, firmly, possessively. When I asked the bride to turn her head slightly to improve the composition, his grip visibly tightened, and she flinched. He smiled at me, a cold, practiced smile, and said his bride was simply overwhelmed by the momentousness of the occasion.
I exposed four plates, though I knew even one would have sufficed. I wanted the family gone. The atmosphere in my studio felt poisonous. Wrong. As they prepared to leave, the bride looked at me directly for the first time. Even through that cursed veil, I could see her eyes, and what I saw there haunts me. She was pleading, silently, desperately pleading for help.
But what could I do? The marriage contract was legal. The family is in agreement. A photographer does not interfere in the private affairs of wealthy clients, and yet I find I cannot shake the feeling that I have participated in something terrible. When Madame Deo returned 3 days later to collect the finished portraits, she examined them carefully, nodded with satisfaction, and paid the remainder due.
She mentioned that her daughter and new son-in-law had already departed for an extended honeymoon abroad. She did not say where. I pray I am wrong. I pray that young woman finds happiness in her marriage, but I fear she will not. Clare and Simone sat in silence after finishing the entry. [music] Jean Batist Lavo had witnessed something deeply wrong, had documented it through his camera, and had been haunted by his inability to intervene.
We need to find out what happened to Emily Devou after this photograph. Clare said marriage records, society announcements, anything that tells us where she went and whether she survived. Simone was already making notes. The DevOru family would have been prominent in social circles. The Times Pikaune and the Daily States both covered high society events extensively.
If there were announcements about the wedding or the couple’s subsequent activities, they would have been reported. But Clare was thinking about John Baptist’s final observation. The couple had departed for an extended honeymoon abroad, destination unknown. In 1904, abroad could mean anywhere. Europe, South America, even Asia.
Tracking someone who had left the country with no specified destination would be nearly impossible unless something had happened to bring them back into public record. A death, a scandal, a legal matter that required documentation. Clare needed to search not just for happy announcements of a successful marriage, but for any trace of Emily Devo Thornton in the years following that terrible wedding photograph.
I’ll start with the newspapers. Clare said, “Marriage announcements first, then any subsequent mentions of either the Dearoo or Thornton families. There has to be something. People this wealthy don’t just disappear.” But even as she said it, Clare felt a chill. In 1904, a married woman effectively became her husband’s property.
If Robert Thornton wanted his wife to disappear, if he wanted to take her far from family and witnesses, the law would have been entirely on his side. and that heavy veil hiding tears and bruises suggested that was exactly what he had intended. The Times Pikyune archives were digitized and searchable, making Clare’s research significantly easier than it would have been even a decade earlier.
She started with June 1904, looking for the wedding announcement that would have preceded the portrait sitting. She found it in the June 12th edition, one week before the photograph was taken, marriage of interest to society. Miss Emily Celeste Devoru, daughter of Mr. Hri and Madame Celestea Devaroo of Ottabon Place to Mr.
Robert Harrison Thornton of Boston, Massachusetts. The ceremony will be held at the Devaroo family residence on June 17th, followed by a private reception for family and intimate friends. [music] Mr. Thornton is associated with maritime shipping interests and has recently established business connections in New Orleans.
The couple will reside abroad following the wedding. The announcement was brief, almost prefuncter, unusual for a family as prominent as the Devo. Most society weddings received extensive coverage detailing the bride’s gown, the floral arrangements, the guest list, the elaborate reception. This announcement read more like an obligation than a celebration.
Clare noted several details. Robert Thornton was from Boston, associated with maritime shipping interests, and had only recently established connections in New Orleans. The wedding was to be held at the family home, not in a church, suggesting either a desire for privacy or perhaps speed, and the couple would reside abroad with no mention of where or for how long.
She searched for any follow-up coverage, accounts of the actual wedding, descriptions of the ceremony, photographs of the bride in her gown, there was nothing. For a family of the Devoo’s social standing, this silence was extraordinary. Then Clare searched for Robert Thornton, expanding her search to include Boston newspapers. She found several mentions.
Thornton had been involved in shipping ventures, had been investigated for questionable business practices involving cargo insurance fraud, but charges had been dropped due to lack of evidence. There were also brief mentions in Boston society columns, usually noting his presence at events where wealthy widows or unmarried erases were present. A pattern emerged.
Robert Thornton was a fortune hunter, a man who cultivated relationships with wealthy families, particularly those with daughters of marriageable age. He had been engaged once before to a young woman in Philadelphia, but that engagement had been abruptly broken. Under circumstances the newspapers delicately declined to specify.
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