Revelations
Barnabas Collins stretched and climbed out of his coffin, wincing at the straggling shaft of sunlight that had yet to set. He fumbled for his sunglasses, cursing the infernal invention known as Daylight Savings Time. He stumbled downstairs, hoping to find a bag of blood in the fridge.
Instead, he found Elizabeth, an envelope in her hand and a puzzled expression on her face. "Barnabas, I found this letter among some things of Angelique's. It's addressed to you."
Barnabas scowled. "I want nothing from that she-devil! Throw it in the fireplace." Elizabeth sighed in understanding.
"It's a pretty thick envelope, Barnabas. Shouldn't you at least read the contents before casting it aside?"
"Oh, very well. Give it here." Elizabeth handed him the envelope and he sank into a chair, tearing it open with his sharp nails and dumping the contents in his lap.
They consisted of a small series of portraits, a necklace with a heart-shaped pendant, and a two page letter. Barnabas shuffled through the portraits, noticing that they were all of a young girl who bore a rather striking resemblance to Angelique. He looked closer, and started in surprise when he saw the girl had his dark eyes. Thoroughly puzzled by now, he unfolded the letter. To his surprise, it was dated Christmas 1766.
'Barnabas:
If you're reading this letter, my love, than I am dead. I tried to make you love me, but that simpering child Josette has taken you from me. But she cannot take away the nights we spent together, and the love we shared. No matter how hard you may deny it, those nights happened. And it is of one of those nights that this letter is about.
It was right after a New Year's Eve ball thrown by your parents that I noticed my flows had stopped. Not wanting to be dismissed from the house, I hid my pregnancy as best as I could, and when I could hide no more, I sought asylum from a woman in the village. I won't name her, as I swore her to secrecy. She took care of me, and helped me birth our daughter.
I wish you could have seen her, Barnabas. She was a beautiful child. I named her Cassandra, after my grandmother. I've enclosed some portraits I had done, but they cannot capture her laughter, the way she smiled when she saw me, and the way she would toss her hair when she was angry.
She was such a frail and delicate child, so unlike her parents, and I had to watch helplessly as she withered and wasted away before my very eyes. All my prayers couldn't save her, and she died before she could fully live. I'm enclosing the portraits of her, as well as a necklace I gave her when she was born. Please keep them safe for me. Cassandra knew nothing of her father, and I could never work up the courage to tell her.
I am truly sorry for not having told you about her sooner, but my mind was filled by then with thoughts of revenging myself against Josette. But, now you know the truth.
Angelique.'
Barnabas refolded the letter, his mind churning over this revelation. He remembered that ball very well. Angelique had just turned seventeen, and he had felt a rebellious thrill when he bedded her right as the clocks had struck midnight. He had seduced her with whispers and promises of eternal love and devotion, and the seemingly naïve servant girl had been putty in his hands. 'If only I had known what a dark mind lay hidden behind those gorgeous looks.' He sighed, then tossed the letter and portraits into the fireplace, watching as they crisped and burned to ashes. 'I am truly sorry, Angelique, but that part of my life is over.'