Dusk falls over the Great House at Collinwood. With it, the sunset fuels the anxieties of one young woman. Maggie Evans, governess to the children of the house, has been troubled by dreams and waking visions of a stranger unmoored from his own time.
Maggie headed to the drawing room, reading material in hand. Tonight the house was eerily quiet. So Maggie was relieved to find Dr. Hoffman reading beside the fireplace.
"Good evening Julia. I didn't know you were in this evening." Dr. Julia Hoffman had come to the Great House ostensibly to research a book, but her real purpose was to investigate the many odd happenings on the estate. Now she stayed on as a guest of the family—dividing her time between the Great House and the Old House, as she had become a particular friend of Barnabas Collins, who lived there.
"Hello Maggie. Yes, I just walked back from the Old House. It's very quiet here this evening. Where is everyone?" Julia had a way of making every situation seem mysterious.
"Mr. Collins—Roger—is still in Boston. Mrs. Stoddard took David and Amy to see a movie in Bangor."
"And Carolyn?"
"At the Blue Whale with Tony Peterson."
"Tony Peterson?" Julia asked with a raised eyebrow.
Maggie sat in an armchair positioned near the fireplace and across from the couch where Julia sat. The latter had set her book aside for the moment. "Yes. He's returned to Collinwood, as suddenly as he left—and with no word of explanation as to where he's been or why."
"And he and Carolyn are picking up where they left off, I suppose." Julia, as a noted psychiatrist and an accomplished professional woman in her own right, was well past the age of caring about the dating crises of the younger residents of the Great House. Still, she found Tony's sudden departure and unexpected return, fascinating. It was just another example of the type of Collinwood mysteries big and small that kept her there in spite of the existence of more worthy pursuits.
"Yes," Maggie sniffed in disapproval. Then recollecting herself, she added, "I shouldn't judge her too harshly. Collinsport is hardly awash in eligible young men, and before Cassandra came to town, everyone could see how much he liked Carolyn."
Julia, as was often the case, knew more about the mysterious, seductive Cassandra than she let on, and swiftly redirected the conversation.
"And what about Chris Jennings? I thought he and Carolyn were an item." Julia was hardly one for idle gossip, but Chris Jennings' plight was of significance to her.
"Carolyn said he's too erratic. He seemed into her one day, and then broke it off the next. He seems like he likes her, but he keeps pushing her away. Sometimes, I don't understand men at all," Maggie managed small chuckle, mostly for Julia's sake.
"And you Maggie? No plans this evening?"
Maggie looked down, and worried her book in her hands. "Just planning to curl up with a good book," she offered Julia a wan smile.
"I thought the mild sedative I prescribed was helping," Julia said knowingly.
"They are but I can't take them every night, and …" Maggie's voice fell away.
"And?" Julia probed.
"And, I didn't want to say anything, not to a psychiatrist …"
"What about to a friend?" the older woman asked.
"Well, you know I've been having these dreams …"
"The ones about the man from the past …" Julia supplied.
"Yes. The other day, the day after I took the sleeping pills—well, I slept through the night—no dreams. But … but then later, I thought I saw him in the woods. I was driving the kids into town and when we rounded the bend, there he was. But when I backed up, he was gone. And David and Amy saw nothing." Her tale came out in rush of words.
Julia looked at her with interest. "Maggie, you've suffered a great deal of loss recently," the psychiatrist began. "Perhaps there's more to this than a series of recurring dreams."
"I think so too. Julia, you once helped me by putting me under hypnosis." The psychiatrist looked uncomfortable. "Would you do it again? Would you hypnotize me?"
"To what end Maggie? That was completely different. Then, you were disturbed—now you're merely upset. What do you think we can uncover through hypnosis?"
"Maybe I know him. Maybe I've seen him somewhere before! There must be an answer, and maybe it's locked away in my subconscious. Please Julia. Will you try?"
Collinwood 1897
One of the mysteries of the Great House at Collinwood was how in a house so large, you could constantly run into those you wished to avoid, and never run into those you wished to see—or so it seemed to Quentin Collins.
While borrowing Beth's keys had proved easy, returning them was more of a challenge. Leaving the tower room, Rachel and Quentin had gone separate ways. Rachel, he assumed, returned directly to her room. He had taken the back staircase toward the servant's quarters to Beth's room. He nearly ran into Dirk Wilkins in the corridor, but spotted him just in time. He waited for Dirk to leave and finish his nightly rounds. But the groundskeeper lingered and lingered. Quentin could hardly go and find out what Dirk was doing there for so long, so instead he waited. Perhaps the groundskeeper was working up his courage to knock at Beth's door—to try his luck with her. But it seemed awfully late at night for that.
Quentin didn't care for Dirk Wilkins. Dirk clearly entertained notions of having Beth for himself. Had Quentin been in love with Beth, he would have attributed his dislike to jealousy. But no, it wasn't that. It may have been the way he sought to ingratiate himself with Judith. In very little time, Judith trusted him and empowered him relative to the other servants. Or perhaps it was simply that Dirk carried himself with an air above his station in life or his situation in the household.
When at last Dirk retreated from the corridor outside Beth's room, Quentin crept in, and replaced the keys in her apron pocket, which hung on a rack just inside the door. As a floorboard creaked, Beth shifted and heaved a sleepy sigh. Quentin froze, not fearing detection, but not welcoming it either. Then she settled, allowing Quentin to leave undetected.
The following day, Quentin made a rare morning appearance in the family dining room. He found his sister Judith languidly finishing her morning repast.
"Good morning Judith," he said with forced enthusiasm. "You look lovely this morning."
"Quentin, to what do I owe this honor?" his sister responded.
"Isn't the pleasure of seeing you enough," he countered in kind.
"Really Quentin, must you be so childish."
"You started it," he taunted her in jest. Then turning more serious, "Actually, I was hoping to see Edward."
"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed then. He's in Bangor."
Quentin was surprised, "What? So early?"
"If you must know, he stayed the night there. Why the sudden interest in Edward's comings and goings?"
"That, dear sister, is between my brother and me," he said as he turned to leave.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked.
"What would that be, Judith?"
"Your breakfast?"
Quentin smiled affably, "Why Judith, it's far too early for breakfast. I'll get a tray at a more civilized hour."
In truth, Quentin had hoped to question Edward about who had been living in the tower room and why. He doubted he'd have any success with Judith. Judith's strong will and determination to best her brothers had earned her their grandmother's trust and now she was mistress of Collinwood as a result. Although Quentin and his brothers Edward and Carl were provided for in the old woman's will, it was Judith in control of the estate. And she'd wasted no time in asserting her authority.
Quentin believed Edward would be the weak link. He would give up what he knew more easily than Judith. If Quentin couldn't coerce it from him, he would goad him until anger cracked his façade. But with the current turn of events, Quentin needed to adjust his plan. He wished he could talk it over with Rachel. In their short, but intensifying acquaintanceship, he'd come to realize that there was more to Rachel than simply being a governess. She was smart in ways not learned from books. She seemed worldly beyond that which her experience and situation would suggest. Yet, she hid it well, as though the persona of the shy governess served her purpose better.
He was feeling at loose ends. He'd not counted on Edward being away, and now he needed to rethink how to proceed. He ambled slowly down the corridor away from the family dining room. He reached the end of the corridor where it teed into two branches. One direction led to the back stairs to the family quarters; the other direction led to the kitchen, and beyond it to the stairs to the lower level—the basement. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a blur of movement in blue. It was Beth. She was carrying what appeared to be a breakfast tray. She stopped to balance it on one arm, while she opened the door with her other hand. Then she was gone.
Should I follow her? he thought. It had been years since he'd last been in the basement. Long ago, when he and Carl were young, they would find their way down there, and explore it by candlelight. All at once, he decided it was worth the risk. He stole quietly down the hall and ducked inside the door.
It was dark, but not as dark as he remembered from exploring with Carl. He stood and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim light. He pressed his back against the wall of the staircase, and felt his way slowly down the stairs, trying hard not to make any sound. What he remembered of the basement was that there were a few storage rooms off of a central corridor, and big open space at the end of the corridor. When he was young that space was filled with old furniture. One of the storage rooms housed the special wines and sherries, which his grandmother kept under lock and key. But as to what was in the other rooms, he and Carl never knew and never cared.
He paused just before he reached the bottom step. Though he couldn't see Beth, he could hear her. Clearly she was unaware of his presence. He could hear her keys jingle, and then turn the lock to one of the rooms.
"Good morning," he heard Beth say in a singsong voice that one might use to a child. "I've brought you some breakfast. Everything you like best," she said.
Then Quentin heard the door close heavily. The lock turned and the heavy door muffled all other sounds.
He waited and waited. Still Beth did not emerge. As more time passed, his patience waned, and his hunger increased. He crept back upstairs, and headed toward the kitchen. He would take a tray back to his rooms. Later he would return to the basement to investigate each of the storage rooms, one-by-one.
While there was no such thing as a "normal" day at Collinwood, the day was as close to normal as Rachel could envision. It began with morning lessons in the schoolroom—spelling and recitation drills. This was followed by lunch in the small dining room. Rachel spent most of it reminding Jamison that it is impolite to speak with his mouth full, and Nora snickering throughout. Then they returned to the schoolroom for arithmetic and history. Finally, they ended the day with a walk toward the Old House. Jamison ran ahead, while Nora held Rachel's hand and prattled on about the imaginary lives of her dolls. But as evening was coming on, they truncated their walk. Both Rachel and Nora noted an animal howl as the sun dropped low in the sky, signaling it was time to return to the Great House.
The day was so normal in fact, it was hard to believe that just the night before she and Quentin were searching the tower room. All day she half-expected Quentin to show up in the schoolroom or the small dining room with some flimsy excuse, and a desire to talk over their discovery of the previous night. But he never came.
She had her evening meal, as she often did, with her young charges in the small dining room. She preferred it to the idea of dining with the other servants in the kitchen dining room. She could think of few things she'd enjoy less than having a meal while Beth glowered at her, and Dirk made eyes at Beth. So as often as she could, she took her meals with Jamison and Nora. Tonight, Jamison was entertaining them with his plan to accompany his father on his next trip to Boston.
"Have you ever been to Boston, Rachel?" Jamison asked her.
"I have," she said, feeling unwelcome warmth suffuse her face. "But it seems like a long time ago now. I'm sure it will have changed, but I know you'll like it—so much to see and so much to do," she added.
"I want to go too," Nora chimed in.
"You're too young," Jamison chided her. Several minutes of childish bickering ensued.
Rachel preferred these familial moments with Jamison and Nora to any others she experienced at Collinwood, or anywhere else in her life. She felt decidedly let down when Beth arrived to take the children upstairs to bed.
"And Miss Collins would like you to join her in the drawing room again this evening," Beth sniffed at her as a parting shot.
"Thank you Beth," she said with as much neutrality of voice as she could muster. And then added to the children, "Nora, Jamison—sleep well. I'll see you in the morning." With that she headed upstairs to wash up before joining Judith Collins in the drawing room.
Rachel knocked softly on the drawing room door, and then entered when bidden to do so by Judith Collins. She found Judith much as she had been the night before—sitting by the fire, needlepoint in hand. Tonight she wore a high-neck burgundy colored dress, with ivory lace trim—very prim.
"Ah, Rachel, thank you for joining me. I enjoyed your company last evening, and hope you'll oblige me again this evening."
"Of course," Rachel responded with genuine warmth, for she could easily understand the isolation of a woman in Judith's situation. "I was reading sonnets yesterday. I'd be happy to read them aloud, if you like," she offered.
"Very much."
A few moments later, Rachel returned with the volume of sonnets, took her place beside the fire, and began to read.
Rachel read several of the sonnets in her clear schoolteacher voice. And between poems, she found Judith eager to talk about them the language and the meaning of each.
Rachel began the next one.
"Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,"
Quentin stood poised to enter the drawing room, when he heard a voice within. He waited, listening. It was Rachel, reading aloud.
"That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."
Quentin timed his entry just as Rachel finished reading the poem. He entered to see Rachel perched at the edge of the armchair, book in hand. Judith sat at the far end of the davenport nearest the fire. Both looked up as he entered.
"Good evening ladies. May I join you?"
"Quentin …" Judith began admonishingly.
Quentin held up his hands, "I promise I'll behave." Judith silently acquiesced. "Brandy?
"Yes, please," Judith responded. Rachel's expression clearly communicated her refusal.
Quentin served Judith, and then took a seat in the tri-part seat facing Rachel. She opened the book and began,
"Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all,
Wherein I should your great deserts repay,
Forgot upon your dearest love to call,
Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day;
That I have frequent been with unknown minds,
And given to time your own dear-purchased right;
That I have hoisted sail to all the …"
A loud, urgent knock interrupted her mid-sentence. "Come in," Judith commanded.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," Dirk Wilkins stood there looking slightly winded; his face looked flushed.
"What is it Dirk?" Judith asked with thinly veiled irritation.
"May I speak with you?"
"What? Now? Can't it wait until tomorrow?" she asked in an imperious voice.
"I'm sorry Miss Collins, but it is important," he told her.
She looked him up and down. Her eyes focused on his trademark jodhpurs and riding boots. "Fine, but your boots aren't fit for the drawing room. Please take them off before you enter," she said, more to assert her authority than from any real need.
Dirk went to sit on the steps across the foyer to remove his boots, while Quentin took momentary satisfaction in seeing Judith take him down a peg or two.
Rachel stood and said to Judith, "Well, it seems we are to end there for this evening."
"Thank you Rachel. I've enjoyed it."
Then Rachel turned to Quentin and asked, "Mr. Collins, I was hoping for a stroll before retiring this evening. Would you be so kind as to escort me as far as the gazebo and back?"
"I'd be delighted," Quentin responded, rising from his seat.
"Rachel," Judith said as they reached the door to the drawing room.
"Yes Miss Collins," Rachel turned, expecting the worse.
"Do be sure to take a wrap. It's likely to be chilly out this evening."
"Thank you. I will. Goodnight."
A short time later, Quentin escorted Rachel across the terrace and away from the Great House toward the odd gazebo at the edge of the Collinwood garden. "You seem to be filling Judith's desire for a younger sister, Rachel," Quentin was saying.
"I don't mind," she responded.
"Tell the truth—you were happy to see me."
"Alright, I was. Just as I was happy to see your cousin Barnabas last evening," she added in a teasing tone.
"Barnabas?"
"Yes. He came by rather late in the evening. I took his arrival as an opportunity to wish Miss Collins goodnight."
"It seems to me that wherever you are, my cousin isn't far behind."
"It's odd though. He turns up at the strangest times. And then, when he offered me the loan of a book, and I went to retrieve it, he was away in Bangor."
"Yes, odd indeed," Quentin said and then diverted Rachel's attention away from his odd cousin and his strange behavior. "So you enjoy reading aloud to my sister, do you?"
"If I'm completely honest, I think it's better than being in my room for hours listening for strange noises and worse."
"About that, I know where the mystery guest is staying now."
Rachel was instantly excited, "How? Where?"
"I followed Beth this morning. She took a tray to one of the rooms in the basement. It was dark and I couldn't be sure which room, but tomorrow I plan to follow her again, and confront whoever they're hiding down there."
"Quentin, perhaps you should try to find out the truth from Edward. I know he's away at the moment, but perhaps you should wait—at least until he returns."
"My dear Rachel, do you know where Edward is at the moment?"
"Jamison said he went to Bangor on business."
By now they'd reached the gazebo. Rachel followed Quentin up the few stairs. He paused and half sat on the railing.
"Up to Bangor, or down to Boston … wherever he went, he went in search of an endless bottle and some easy female companionship. I'll give him this though, when he goes on a bender, he has the good taste to do it away from Collinsport—unlike me, or at least that's what Judith would say."
"I see," was all she said.
"That's it?" Quentin asked incredulously.
"I could feign shock or dismay or disappointment, but I'd only be doing so to fulfill your expectations," she said decidedly. Then she turned the conversation back to their purpose, "At least let me come with you."
"No Rachel. It's too dangerous."
"All the more reason why you shouldn't go alone."
"I have a pistol, and I'm not afraid to use it," he told her with finality, rising to his full height and standing before her.
Rachel sighed and her lips pressed into a thin, unhappy line. "When?"
"Tomorrow. I'll just have to wait for an opportunity." She sighed again. Quentin took her by the shoulders and brought his forehead close to hers. "Don't look so worried."
"At least, promise me you'll be careful," she whispered.
"I will—I promise."
They turned and walked back to the Great House, unaware that Barnabas watched them all the while from the edge of the woods.