Dark Shadows &Friday the 13th The Series
Crossover
Hands Down
Chapter 2
Angelique Collins pinned the last flawless blonde curl into place when she heard Hoffman's telltale walk coming down the hall then stop outside her closed double doors. "Come in, Hoffman," she entreated even before the woman had the chance to knock. It was always like this between the two women. They understood each other all too well.
Hoffman, a severe looking woman about mid-forties, opened the doors sturdy double doors and closed them behind her in one well-practiced swoop. She had pale marble skin and deep red hair done into a bun, and wearing a modest black dress and a sour expression as she did everyday. "Ms. Corrinne Skinner is waiting for you down in the Drawing Room," she informed her mistress rather unenthusiastically.
Angelique plucked a short chain from her jewelry chest, pleased with her choice. A smooth tear shaped pearl quivered as she lifted it to her neck. "Thank you, Hoffman. Oh, Hoffman," she called out. Hoffman turned in her tracks, her arms arcing out from her body as if by whiplash. "Do help me with this necklace, would you?" The maid took the chain into her hands. Angelique waited patiently until the necklace fell to her skin, latched and secure. The woman was naturally stunning, but jewels only enhanced her allure. She fingered the pearl tentatively, though she was already thinking over what perfume to wear.
"You look radiant tonight, Mrs. Collins," Hoffman said softly, taking away her warm, pasty hands and putting them into her pockets. Angelique saw that spark of adoration in her maid's judgmental green-grey eyes.
"Thank you, Hoffman."
Hoffman picked up a few dresses from the bed and surrounding chairs, choices Angelique rejected for the engagement tonight. The beautiful woman sat down at her mirror and brushed a faint pink rouge across her ageless, unmarred cheekbones. The warm, tiffany lights cast a bronze glow on her face and her large, owl-like blue eyes stared back at her with satisfaction. She had to admit it to herself: there was no doubt she was positively irresistible.
Applying lipstick to her full lips, she stared a moment at herself. Ever since she had been a child, her father had told her and her twin sister that they would take the world by storm when they matured. Angelique soon found her looks to astound those around her, and quickly put that to good use. She was infectious, even unavoidably intoxicating and that became the key to her sociability. There came a day when her more traditional sister, Alexis, tired of having her twin sister steal the limelight and always being told she would never match up to her sister. Taking one last look at her home, she left Collinsport. The Stokes family became nothing but a bitter memory. She traveled to Europe to console herself with people who didn't expect her to be anyone but herself. Angelique didn't concern herself. She shared little kinship with anyone. It wasn't long before she landed herself a husband though seduction, he being the most eligible, sought after, and richest man in town.
"Is Mr. Collins bringing you to the lecture dinner tonight?" asked Hoffman upon returning from the closet in her boudoir. Angelique froze mid-stroke with a mascara brush.
"No," she answered tersely, returning the brush to its vessel. "No, Mr. Collins won't be going tonight. I have someone else in mind to be my escort."
"Oh?" Hoffman pursed her lips. She kneeled on the window seat on the other side of the room to draw the bright green and teal curtains closed. "You didn't tell me about this. Who do you have in mind?"
Angelique rose from her chair, the icy, moonlight-blue satin fabric of her dress conforming to her attractive figure. She smiled inside at the sleekness of it on her skin. She refrained from voicing the words Hoffman already knew: Quentin, as usual, was infuriated with her interest in the occult. and would have nothing to do with the dinner tonight. He most likely would not even see her off. Naturally she had to look elsewhere for a common thread of interest. Quentin had little patience with his wife's dabbling interests and could always be expected to disappear when her father or Aunt Hannah came to visit, the two most influential people in her life that had encouraged her interest since she could remember. Her bedroom was now on the farthest extremity of the East Wing because of their feigned marriage. It was rarely visited by her husband. The strain on their marriage and relationship had become even more apparent now that their son had been sent away to school. Tonight was just one more attempt on her part to move her husband in the only way she knew, to induce any kind of emotional response toward her even if it was fury. Angelique watched Hoffman pull the curtains a little tighter against the harsh evening sunset.
"Damion," she answered her companion unconcernedly. "Damion Edwards."
"Mr. Edwards?" Hoffman froze, her thin mouth forming a small "o." She looked about to fall off her high horse. "I'd rather you didn't go at all, then, if that's your only choice. I've never approved of him and I didn't think you did, either. Even Mr. Bruno Hess would be a more suitable choice."
Angelique turned. Her expression wrought unsuppressed ire. Sharp-edged daggers slick with venom surfaced in her soulful eyes. "What would you have me do, then? Go alone and look like a complete fool? There's talk enough without fueling the fire. And you forget who's mistress of this house and who isn't! It's not your place to make my decisions for me, is it, Hoffman?"
A cold silence pulsed like electricity between the women that could be felt from across the room. Hoffman's chin elevated into an indignant position. Angelique could almost feel her anger subside. But she couldn't apologize. As dedicated as they were to each other, Angelique couldn't let her maid become accustomed to overstepping her place. It wouldn't be accepted by her husband's affluent family. Not that she was a slave to convention, but she was trying to fit the role of the Lady-of-the-manor in every mode just to stay on top where she had effortlessly placed herself. At last Hoffman broke the silence, though her body was defensively rigid.
"I am sorry, Mrs. Collins. I will never speak out of turn again."
Angelique hated to put that wedge in their relationship. Hoffman had been dedicated to her, almost to a fault, since her marriage to Quentin. Besides her many male companions, Julia Hoffman had been her only true and loyal friend in Collinwood. They held no secrets from each other. Angelique drew herself up into a regal posture and nodded, accepting the apology gracefully. "That's fine, Hoffman. Please go downstairs and tell Corinne I will be right with her."
Like a ghost receding into the shadows of night at first light, Hoffman left to do her mistress's bidding.
Crossover
Hands Down
Chapter 2
Angelique Collins pinned the last flawless blonde curl into place when she heard Hoffman's telltale walk coming down the hall then stop outside her closed double doors. "Come in, Hoffman," she entreated even before the woman had the chance to knock. It was always like this between the two women. They understood each other all too well.
Hoffman, a severe looking woman about mid-forties, opened the doors sturdy double doors and closed them behind her in one well-practiced swoop. She had pale marble skin and deep red hair done into a bun, and wearing a modest black dress and a sour expression as she did everyday. "Ms. Corrinne Skinner is waiting for you down in the Drawing Room," she informed her mistress rather unenthusiastically.
Angelique plucked a short chain from her jewelry chest, pleased with her choice. A smooth tear shaped pearl quivered as she lifted it to her neck. "Thank you, Hoffman. Oh, Hoffman," she called out. Hoffman turned in her tracks, her arms arcing out from her body as if by whiplash. "Do help me with this necklace, would you?" The maid took the chain into her hands. Angelique waited patiently until the necklace fell to her skin, latched and secure. The woman was naturally stunning, but jewels only enhanced her allure. She fingered the pearl tentatively, though she was already thinking over what perfume to wear.
"You look radiant tonight, Mrs. Collins," Hoffman said softly, taking away her warm, pasty hands and putting them into her pockets. Angelique saw that spark of adoration in her maid's judgmental green-grey eyes.
"Thank you, Hoffman."
Hoffman picked up a few dresses from the bed and surrounding chairs, choices Angelique rejected for the engagement tonight. The beautiful woman sat down at her mirror and brushed a faint pink rouge across her ageless, unmarred cheekbones. The warm, tiffany lights cast a bronze glow on her face and her large, owl-like blue eyes stared back at her with satisfaction. She had to admit it to herself: there was no doubt she was positively irresistible.
Applying lipstick to her full lips, she stared a moment at herself. Ever since she had been a child, her father had told her and her twin sister that they would take the world by storm when they matured. Angelique soon found her looks to astound those around her, and quickly put that to good use. She was infectious, even unavoidably intoxicating and that became the key to her sociability. There came a day when her more traditional sister, Alexis, tired of having her twin sister steal the limelight and always being told she would never match up to her sister. Taking one last look at her home, she left Collinsport. The Stokes family became nothing but a bitter memory. She traveled to Europe to console herself with people who didn't expect her to be anyone but herself. Angelique didn't concern herself. She shared little kinship with anyone. It wasn't long before she landed herself a husband though seduction, he being the most eligible, sought after, and richest man in town.
"Is Mr. Collins bringing you to the lecture dinner tonight?" asked Hoffman upon returning from the closet in her boudoir. Angelique froze mid-stroke with a mascara brush.
"No," she answered tersely, returning the brush to its vessel. "No, Mr. Collins won't be going tonight. I have someone else in mind to be my escort."
"Oh?" Hoffman pursed her lips. She kneeled on the window seat on the other side of the room to draw the bright green and teal curtains closed. "You didn't tell me about this. Who do you have in mind?"
Angelique rose from her chair, the icy, moonlight-blue satin fabric of her dress conforming to her attractive figure. She smiled inside at the sleekness of it on her skin. She refrained from voicing the words Hoffman already knew: Quentin, as usual, was infuriated with her interest in the occult. and would have nothing to do with the dinner tonight. He most likely would not even see her off. Naturally she had to look elsewhere for a common thread of interest. Quentin had little patience with his wife's dabbling interests and could always be expected to disappear when her father or Aunt Hannah came to visit, the two most influential people in her life that had encouraged her interest since she could remember. Her bedroom was now on the farthest extremity of the East Wing because of their feigned marriage. It was rarely visited by her husband. The strain on their marriage and relationship had become even more apparent now that their son had been sent away to school. Tonight was just one more attempt on her part to move her husband in the only way she knew, to induce any kind of emotional response toward her even if it was fury. Angelique watched Hoffman pull the curtains a little tighter against the harsh evening sunset.
"Damion," she answered her companion unconcernedly. "Damion Edwards."
"Mr. Edwards?" Hoffman froze, her thin mouth forming a small "o." She looked about to fall off her high horse. "I'd rather you didn't go at all, then, if that's your only choice. I've never approved of him and I didn't think you did, either. Even Mr. Bruno Hess would be a more suitable choice."
Angelique turned. Her expression wrought unsuppressed ire. Sharp-edged daggers slick with venom surfaced in her soulful eyes. "What would you have me do, then? Go alone and look like a complete fool? There's talk enough without fueling the fire. And you forget who's mistress of this house and who isn't! It's not your place to make my decisions for me, is it, Hoffman?"
A cold silence pulsed like electricity between the women that could be felt from across the room. Hoffman's chin elevated into an indignant position. Angelique could almost feel her anger subside. But she couldn't apologize. As dedicated as they were to each other, Angelique couldn't let her maid become accustomed to overstepping her place. It wouldn't be accepted by her husband's affluent family. Not that she was a slave to convention, but she was trying to fit the role of the Lady-of-the-manor in every mode just to stay on top where she had effortlessly placed herself. At last Hoffman broke the silence, though her body was defensively rigid.
"I am sorry, Mrs. Collins. I will never speak out of turn again."
Angelique hated to put that wedge in their relationship. Hoffman had been dedicated to her, almost to a fault, since her marriage to Quentin. Besides her many male companions, Julia Hoffman had been her only true and loyal friend in Collinwood. They held no secrets from each other. Angelique drew herself up into a regal posture and nodded, accepting the apology gracefully. "That's fine, Hoffman. Please go downstairs and tell Corinne I will be right with her."
Like a ghost receding into the shadows of night at first light, Hoffman left to do her mistress's bidding.