Never My Love
Chapter 1
Barnabas stood on the crest of Widow's Hill, as darkness began to cloak the
Estate. A chill wind, made its presence felt, whipping at the edges of his
cape, and ruffling stray strands of his hair.
His face was set and grim, as he stared out at the choppy ocean, below the
rocks he now stood on. His mood and outlook were as bleak and black, as the
darkness that now surround him.
He allowed his mind to wander back several months, to the beginning of this
new situation, which he found himself in.
It had been a few weeks after his return from 1840 with Julia and Stokes.
When they'd returned, they had found Collinwood to be intact, but entirely
too quiet. Nor could one member of the Collins family, be found within its
walls.
He and Stokes had discussed the possibilities while Julia had returned to
her room, to change into more suitable, and more comfortable clothing.
Shortly after she had returned, Elizabeth had entered the drawing room,
urging them to hurry for the Historical Society meeting; otherwise they'd
be late. With a collective sigh, the three of them had left Collinwood,
knowing that everything had been righted once more. Only one more
uncertainty remained; with the coming dawn, would Barnabas be free of the
curse, or would he have to return to the coffin, hidden in the Old House
basement?
It had been an agonising wait, but as the sun had begun to rise, he'd felt
no urge to return to his coffin. He was really free.
In the following weeks, peace had reigned at Collinwood and the Old House.
After almost four years battling one supernatural threat after another,
Barnabas and Julia had had little time to relax. Now they had an abundance,
which surprisingly, soon became tedious.
It was too quiet, too restful, and a nervousness began to edge its way in,
somehow, as if they were waiting...as though if they relaxed too much, they'd
be caught unaware.
His thought returned to the present, reluctantly. He couldn't afford to be
away from the Old House for long. Briefly his thoughts turned to Julia,
and his mood, lifted only slightly. His thoughts were of her, constantly,
but he had learned to hide it well, over the years. Too well, perhaps, he
thought now, as he turned away from Widow's Hill. His footsteps were heavy,
and slow, deliberately delaying his return to the Old House, for as long as
he could.