Thu. Apr. 30, 1970
On this day, Amy Jennings has had a nervous breakdown after two deaths in succession—those of Chris Jennings and Sabrina Stuart… Facing no other choice, but to commit Amy to Windcliff, Quentin watches as she leaves with Dr. Kassem… Meanwhile, at the Old House, Hannah du Noir will be terrified…
Upstairs at the Old House on the Collins Estate, in Josette Collin's old room, Hannah du Noir set a box down and began to remove the curtains from the windows. While stepping down from the step ladder at the window, she got the distinct impression that there was someone behind her. Hannah stopped and reached behind her neck, feeling the goosebumps.
"Who's there?" she demanded. She began to look around the room, but of course, it was empty. Hannah sniffed—she could have sworn she smelled the scent of jasmine flowing through the dark air. But behind Hannah, the eyes on Josette's painting began to glow.
Hannah felt something like an icy cold hand touch her neck—she gasped and held her hand to the back of her neck, standing straight. She whirled around, and that's when she noticed the Portrait of Josette Collins, and her glowing eyes…
Hannah screamed in horror. A gust of wind blew into the room, slamming the windows shut. The closet doors clattered back and forth, seemingly on their own. Hannah screamed raspily.
Out in the hall, hearing Hannah's screams, Angelique Rumson rushed into the bedroom. "Hannah! What is it?" But even Angelique could not deny that she saw things moving on their own.
"That-that portrait!" Hannah gasped, pointing. "It's EYES were glowing!"
Angelique looked, but Josette's image looked normal. Angelique's eyes narrowed, and she walked over to Josette's painting, staring at it intently.
"I'll not come back up to this room!" Hannah exclaimed. "I won't—never!" With that, she turned and ran out of the room and down the stairs as fast as a woman in her fifties could run.
Angelique scowled and looked back at Josette's face. "I've about had enough of you!" she spat at the portrait. "This is MY house now, Josette, and there's NOTHING you can do about it!" With that, Angelique took Josette's portrait off of the wall and carried it out of the room.
Downstairs, Hannah had already gotten in her car and left with the squealing of tires. Angelique looked at the open front door and shook her head. Carrying Josette's portrait to the fireplace, Angelique stood and stared at it for a moment. "You no longer belong in this house!" she told the portrait. "I command you to leave, and never return!" Angelique flung Josette's portrait in the fire, and watched it burn with a gleeful satisfied grin on her face…
Act One:
Tony and Quentin sat in the Drawing Room to discuss Chris's trust fund for Amy, while preparing for Chris and Sabrina's double funeral.
"It's quite a complicated affair," Tony told Quentin. "Basically, Sabrina named Chris, instead of her brother Ned, as her sole beneficiary. Now, with Chris deceased as well, Amy is now the beneficiary of both wills, with you as executor, Quentin..."
Quentin took a gulp of brandy and grimaced. "Amy... how am I going to help her if I can't even help myself? Everything is falling apart around me, Tony," Quentin sighed.
Outside the Drawing Room, Dameon stood outside and eavesdropped.
Tony leaned forward with his own brandy. "Then there's the other matter of Amy's guardianship, Quentin. You say you're a distant cousin on Chris's mother's side? Well, we have to put out a letter in the major newspapers, and if no other relative claims Amy, you can apply for custody of her while she's still a minor.
Quentin stood up and poured himself some more brandy. "All right Tony, but I still think Elizabeth should be Amy's guardian. I don't think I can be much use to her... In fact, I've decided to leave Collinwood. With Dameon around, and with everything else that's happened, I don't feel like I have any other choice."
Dameon narrowed his eyes and frowned as he listened.
"Are you sure leaving is the best decision, Quentin?" Tony asked. Quentin nodded sadly, taking another gulp…
After Tony's meeting with Quentin, Tony took Laszlo to the Old House to visit Angelique one last time. Laszlo was planning on returning to New York to record his new record.
"Wow, you've certainly changed things around here!" Tony remarked, staring at the changes in the downstairs of the Old House. He had visited a couple of years ago, when Barnabas was still the master of the Old House, instead of secretly entombed in the Secret Room.
"I wish I could see it, Angelique…" Laszlo said, feeling the plushness of the sofa.
"Maybe you can, someday," Angelique told him. "Are you still seeing sparks of light?"
"Now and then," Laszlo answered. "While I'm in New York, I'm going to go see an eye specialist. I haven't seen one since I was a teenager and was told there was no hope I would ever see again."
"I'm glad you've decided to see a specialist, Laszlo," Angelique told him, stroking the side of his face. "I just know you'll be able to see ME someday! Oh, and speaking of seeing ME, I wish you could see my new portrait." Angelique walked over to the armchair beside the fireplace and picked up her picture. The pieces of wood frame from Josette's portrait still smoldered in the fireplace…
Act Two:
"Wow, Angelique! It looks just like you!" Tony exclaimed. He studied Angelique's portrait, still thinking about how he could have sworn he met her at some point in years past…
"Can you help me hang it up, Tony?" Angelique asked. "I have John's toolbox right here. He's out on errands right now, and I just can't wait another moment."
"Certainly," Tony answered. He took off his suit jacket and opened up the toolbox.
"I wish I could see it," Laszlo remarked bitterly, while Tony stepped on the stool in front of the fireplace to hammer in the picture hangings.
"You WILL, I have a great feeling about it!" Angelique gave him a little hug. She looked over at the fireplace and watched as the last of Josette's portrait disintegrated in the fire…
Meanwhile, at the Great House of Collinwood, Quentin was sitting up in his chambers in the West Wing, finishing off the bottle of brandy. He sat drunkenly in an armchair, listening to the ancient victrola as it played the music he used to listen to all the time when he was a young man, over seventy years ago.
Dameon came into the room, without knocking of course, holding a bottle of champagne and some glasses. He stopped and shook his head at the drunk Quentin sitting there, listening to the old-timey music. "Wow, you certainly have always had some strange tastes in music, Grant!" He set the champagne and glasses on the little table and sat in the chair next to Quentin.
Quentin looked over at Dameon and grinned. "I'll have you know this was ex… ex-tree… extreme… really popular when I was young…"
Dameon laughed and reached over and poured the champagne in the two glasses. "I hear we're leaving Collinwood… So, I got some champagne to have a little going-away party." He took Quentin's brandy and handed him the glass of champagne.
Quentin took the glass of champagne and stared at Dameon. "How d'ya know that?"
"Oh, I was eavesdropping during your visit with Tony Peterson today," Dameon explained, as he sipped the champagne. "Are we going back to Portland? It's a shame, really, to leave this place… I mean, the house in Portland is nice, of course, but this…" He gestured around the room.
Quentin leaned forward in his seat and swayed back and forth. "Whataya mean—WE? You're going back to Portland. I gave you the house, remember? I'm goin' far away—I don't even care where anymore…"
Dameon sipped his champagne and smiled. "And what about our poor dearly departed old friend—Frederick? You may not be going too far away, Grant, if you go to the state prison for murder…"
Quentin laughed and drank his champagne. "You're still going to hold that over my head, Dameon? Frederick wasn't the first person I've killed in my one hundred and thirty years on this Earth!"
Dameon just stared at Quentin in disbelief…
Act Three:
"Oh Grant, a hundred and thirty years?" Dameon scoffed with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not surprised Frederick wasn't the first murder you've committed, but over a hundred years? I've always suspected you're older than you look—but not that old!"
Quentin stopped swaying and appeared to sober up. He looked Dameon straight in the eyes. "It's true. I have an old painting in the attic that keeps me as young and full of vitality as I was seventy years ago."
Dameon shook his head in disbelief. He started to give a little chuckle, but he saw that Quentin was serious. Dameon was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable. "All right, prove it! Show me this "magic" painting that keeps you young!"
Quentin nodded. "All right, I WILL!" He got up from the arm chair a little unsteadily. He dropped the champagne glass on the floor with a shatter and grabbed Dameon's arm. "Come on, let's go!"
Dameon brought a flashlight with them as he helped the drunkenly swaying Quentin up the attic stairs. Cobwebs and dust covered the maze of furniture, portraits, and knick-knacks that occupied the large Collinwood attic. Dameon peered around the darkness.
"Turn on that lamp above you!" Quentin commanded. Dameon pulled the switch, and Quentin looked around, trying to remember where he had stashed his portrait after Julia had rediscovered it for him a few months ago during his amnesia.
Quentin found it where he had left it—behind an Oriental screen in case someone else came up to the attic to look for something. "Here it is!" he called over to Dameon. He pulled off the sheet covering the portrait and stepped aside so that Dameon could see it. "Behold… the Portrait of Quentin Collins!"
Dameon shone the flashlight at the old picture, and gasped in revulsion at what was painted there. The picture did not look anything like the tall, handsome, young-looking man that stood beside him. The portrait held the gruesome image of a decaying zombie dressed in late Nineteenth Century clothes.
"Ugh!" Dameon held his free hand up to his face and looked at Quentin with disgust. "Is this some kind of joke?"
Quentin smiled and shook his head. "No, no joke. As you can see, the image in the painting ages and decays, while I stay young. The only way to end my life is to destroy the painting." Quentin stepped close to Dameon and put his hands on Dameon's shoulders. "So... why don't you do it old friend? I don't want to live anymore, anyways…"
Dameon backed away and shook his head in confusion. "No... you're joking… A hundred and thirty years old… A magic painting with some sort of zombie painted on it… You're sick Grant, really sick!"
Quentin chuckled bitterly. "Yeah, I'm sick all right. I deserve every bad thing that's ever happened to me…" He pulled the sheet over the offending portrait and replaced the screen in front of it. "Come on, let's go finish that champagne in my room."
As Quentin led Dameon out of the attic, Dameon turned and looked back at the Oriental screen, wondering if there was any truth to what Quentin was saying…
Cast:
Tony Peterson… JERRY LACY
Angelique Rumson… LARA PARKER
Quentin Collins… DAVID SELBY
Laszlo Ferrari… MICHAEL STROKA
Hannah du Noir… PAULA LAURENCE
Dameon Edwards… JERED HOLMES