Born in 1855, “Miss Bettie,” a lovely, golden-haired child, lived in an exciting atmosphere. During the war years the house served as a hospital for Confederate soldiers, and, as Galveston was alternately in the hands of both armies, served as a headquarters for both. Union and Confederate generals came and went. Over and over again it has been said in Galveston that the swords of surrender were exchanged between the North and South in the Gold Room, Ashton Villa’s ornate, formal living room.
Soon after the war ended, Galveston began to regain its prosperity. Wharves were again crowded with ships laden with merchandise, old stores were remodeled, and new ones were opened. Wartime damage was repaired, and returning soldiers came home to resume their trades and professions. It was a bustling port. The late 1800s arrived, and Galveston became a celebrated trading center. Ships from around the world dropped anchor in its busy harbor. Fortunes were made overnight, and The Strand, the business district of this seaside city, became “the Wall Street of the Southwest.”
One of the most picturesque and romantic cities in the South, Galveston was the perfect setting for a beautiful woman. Here Rebecca Ashton Brown, the favorite daughter of financier James M. Brown, lived an adventurous life, the likes of which most Victorian ladies did not dare even imagine. A legend in her own time, she scandalized many with her liberated ways. She often traveled alone, smoked in public, and never married—shocking for a woman of her day.
Miss Bettie, as she was most often known, was the epitome of the frivolity and opulence that the period exuded. A free spirit, she traveled to Munich, Dusseldorf, and other art centers of Europe. Preferring travel and adventure to giving up her freedom, Miss Bettie had many beaux but rejected marriage. One fellow even quaffed champagne from her gilded slipper.
Nine years after the end of the Civil War, a fashionable summer resort for the wealthy opened in Waukesha, Wisconsin. It was called Fountain Spring House, and the arrival at its doors of a Southern belle from Galveston, Texas, was reported in the Milwaukee Journal. “She made her appearance with sixteen trunks filled with such finery as Waukesha never before beheld on one woman; and with her carriage, her liverymen, servants, a coachman, and coal-black horses.” The other guests at the hotel were stunned by such a display.
Her beauty was emphasized by her magnificent gowns, and it was said that Miss Bettie often appeared in three different costumes in one day. It was always she who led the grand marches. At one Christmas ball she wore a handsome, black-velvet princess gown. On its train were leaves embossed in solid gold, and in her hand she carried an enormous ostrich fan studded with real pearls. That night her golden-haired Grecian beauty was a striking contrast to the appearance of her escort, an arrestingly handsome man with black hair and a beard. This was one of the few nights when Miss Bettie seemed to laugh delightedly and talk attentively to her escort. In repose, her face had come to look more and more unhappy.
Her frequent trips abroad were an occasion to collect art objects and curios, paintings, and tapestries from many foreign lands. Among her favorites were costumes and a collection of unusual fans. These treasures were kept in a small alcove in Ashton Villa’s ornate living room, called the Gold Room, where she often entertained.
In 1920 she died, still a mysterious and enigmatic woman. The mansion once so full of life became a museum. The house was beautifully restored with Miss Bettie’s paintings and her furniture. The Gold Room is as beautiful a show-place today as it was when she was alive.
The villa’s carriage house has often been used as living quarters for a caretaker. This is where Terry O’Donohoe stayed one weekend to fill in for a friend named Don Ross, the tall, darkly handsome young man who was then caretaker of the mansion. Illness in the family necessitated Ross’s being away overnight. Nothing was said to anyone: O’Donohoe simply took Ross’s place. It is doubtful that anyone even knew O’Donohoe was not the regular caretaker.
Just before O’Donohoe went to bed that night, he noticed some heat lightning and the oppressive stillness of the air outside. “We’re going to get some rain,” he thought. Buffy, Ross’s dog, was behaving peculiarly, following him everywhere and underfoot constantly. What was wrong with the animal? Perhaps Ross was used to this, but it was getting on O’Donohoe’s nerves. He decided to put the dog outside.
Sometime after midnight he was awakened by an ear-shattering crash of thunder, followed by smaller volleys close by. The dog was barking wildly. O’Donohoe’s first thought was that someone was trying to break into the mansion, and, mindful of his duty, he hurriedly threw on his clothes. Outdoors the rain lashed at him angrily, and one bolt of lightning after another erupted over his head. It was a devil of a night. He dashed under the canopy of huddled trees near the villa, but nothing was any protection against the storm, and he was drenched.
Inside the villa, O’Donohoe’s first impression was that the house could not have been any quieter. He had turned on the lights and already checked two rooms, however, when he heard people talking. It was a man and a woman, their voices raised in angry argument. Shrinking back against the wall, O’Donohoe had almost convinced himself that someone with a right to be in the house had come back unexpectedly when he realized that all was again quiet.
O’Donohoe waited for about five minutes, then he decided to continue his check of the house. When he reached the Gold Room, he was certain that he heard a rustling sound coming from within the room, but what could it be?
