Message Intercepted: Companion Piece to "Message Received" (1841PT)

Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis Production

Melanie stared down at the crumbled note on the table. Before it had arrived, her plans for the day centered on going into town with Catherine. However, she had decided to stay home because of exhaustion. As the morning's events would show, she was glad that she had done so. Just as the clock struck noon, a messenger knocked at the door with a note to be given to her husband, Kendrick. Melanie took the note and paid the courier with a few coins she discovered lying on a table in the foyer. She hated to admit that her husband had become much too lax about where he placed his money, but this flaw had become overwhelming. Although she had been raised in one the wealthiest family in Maine, she could not be tricked into believing that money grew on trees.

The moment the courier left, Melanie tore open the seal and read the note. She knew that her husband would not be pleased with her actions, but instinct informed her of what she had to do. The note read:

Mr. Young

I must inform you that we have yet to capture the animal that attacked your wife months ago. As you know, there have been five more victims since your wife's attack. Two of those five have been attacked multiple times. Because of this, I think it would be wise for you to keep your wife inside, or under the supervision of another, for the time being.

Constable William Patterson

"So they wanted to lock me inside my own home?" Melanie growled as she crushed the not into a ball and tossed it onto the table. "I am not a child to be commanded!" she screamed. At that moment, she realized how vacant the house truly was. Kendrick was in town and most of the servants were running errands. If she were to be attacked ("so preposterous" she thought), now was the time to do it. Was that why Catherine had been so eager to spend time with her? She knew that her sister in law did not enjoy her company. Melanie could almost understand her reasons why. She surely wouldn't like a woman who had attempted to take her own life. How could she expect more from Catherine, especially now that she was in the waning months of her pregnancy? Catherine Collins: so beautiful and yet so selfish and troublesome. All their lives would be better without her. After that fateful day, that day when so many lives changed, Melanie saw Catherine with different eyes. She could be neither trusted nor respected. Melanie almost regretted the delight she felt in watching the baby heavy mistress of Collinwood waddle down the stairs, aided only by her young maid and the firm hand of God. Catherine, as petulant as ever, was firm in her insistence that she would regain her girlish figure soon after the birth of her child. Melanie knew better. It didn't take a genius to realize that much of that weight would cling to her bones for the rest of her for life.

In contrast, Melanie had grown slightly slimmer since her marriage. Although the family seemed appalled by her blanched pallor and hollowed cheeks, she found that the look suited her. If anything, her loss seemed to put an end to her childish days just as much as her refusal to wear those stupid bows did. Oh, how much of the family had hated that decision! Flora had begged her to reconsider. "Remember how we loved to put those lovely ribbons of silk into your hair, darling?" she had pleaded. "Can you do it again for me?" Melanie, after summoning all of her paper-thin courage, refused. The bows made her look like an overgrown baby. She was now a married woman and she could no longer be concerned with the things of children.

This lack of concern extended into her young household. Melanie wanted no children of her own. Unfortunately, Kendrick had different ideas. Almost every night, Melanie found her body being hammered by her husband's good intentions. He believed that Melanie had too much time to herself. Children, he thought, would occupy her and steer her away of melancholy. She knew that it was best to lay still and allow the commotion to pass. She couldn't enjoy the sex, regardless of how much she desired it. Although she knew that her husband loved her, she could discover none of this love in the bedroom. Occasionally, he would mumble the word or two once the deed was done. However, he would not hold her or speak with her until the next day. Melanie found the silence awkward and isolating. She found that she would only reflect on the spiritual gulf between them after the deed was done. Physically, they were never closer. Their bodies would both be covered in lust's sticky sweat; it seemed to bind them together no matter how far she turned away from him. It made Melanie uncomfortable. All she wanted to do was bathe and cleanse her body of its shame before she was forced to face the morning.

Melanie hid this shame from others, especially after she had foolishly told all to Flora. She had barely contained her horror when her adopted mother said that this discomfort was to be expected. "He is your husband," explained Flora. "It's your job to perform certain wifely duties."

"But mother, I find no pleasure in it. I only feel pain. Yes, he has needs. I admit it. But what about me? Is my comfort of no consequence?"

"Darling, that isn't a factor. Think of all that your husband does for you. You know of the great good that he has given the rest of the family. You owe him as much." Flora then coughed uncomfortably, saying, "But let's not speak of such matters. Tell me Melanie, how . . ."

Melanie had tuned her out after that. Who was Flora Collins to speak of such things? she thought bitterly. Had Flora performed her "wifely duties," Justin wouldn't have dallied with the widowed Josette, and fathered Melanie in the process. Nonetheless, she couldn't believe that this woman who claimed to love her could condone such behavior that left her feeling raw in the end. Melanie considered talking to Josette, but knew that this type of conversation would be uncomfortable. So she suffered in silence.

And this letter had to arrive. All its appearance did was spread quicksilver anxiety throughout her body. "No one must know," she murmured as she gathered the damaged parchment in her hands. "Kendrick, the servants, mother. None must know."

Melanie nearly tripped up the stairs as she ran to her room. She closed the door softly before heading toward the chest at the foot of her bed. Her husband liked to believe that he knew her secrets, but deep inside her precious mahogany chest hid her filmy infant gowns, jewelry that belonged to both of her mothers, and words of love that she had written in praise of another man. Carefully, she removed the flimsy pastel clothes and placed the note atop the tea colored sketches that her late brother Gabriel had drawn. Memories of that lost little boy caused her eyes to cloud with unshed tears. It was hard for her to imagine how such a bright, energetic boy as Gabriel could transform into a pathetic, drunken coward. She, and others, placed the blame on Justin's slipshod parenting. Morgan had been the oldest, Quentin the most independent, and Melanie the sole girl, father's gorgeous angel. How could Gabriel fit into that hierarchy? Atop this sat Justin's, let alone Melanie's, possession-based madness. Their home was a nightmare filled with raving lunatics and uncaring adults. Almost understandably, alcohol became his solace. Melanie believed that no one ever loved him the way he deserved and now it was too late to correct this injustice.

A sound from behind the door jarred Melanie from her memories. She spun around to see Helen Michaels standing just outside the room. "What is it?" she asked, unafraid of the irritation that infected her words.

"I came to see it you had any clothes for the wash," answered the girl softly, her thin mouth twisted in a strange configuration.

"You know that this is not your area. I prefer Crystal handle my things. You know this!"

"But madam, Crystal has yet to return from her sister's home," continued Helen. "I only thought . . ."

"You thought wrong. I can wait until Crystal returns. I have enough reserve to last many days past this one." She paused before adding, "And you are never to question me, Helen. Do you understand this? One more show of insolence and I will be forced to bring this up before Mr. Young. I'm sure you understand."

"Yes madam." Helen hung her head and closed the door before audibly sulking off down the hall. Melanie knew that she could barely contain her dislike for the woman. Helen Michaels was Kendrick's hire. Helen liked to cluck around the Rose Cottage, demanding that even the head maid do the most pathetic of chores under her command. She acted as if she were queen of the roost. Her fellow workers believed that they had the answer. The other servants had begun to whisper about back door shenanigans when they believed that Melanie was out of sight. She didn't know if they were having an affair, but she highly doubted it. Helen was thin, with dark hair and wide black eyes, and, as if Melanie could forget, an odd mouth that seemed permanently set in a slight grimace. Who would lay with her?

In spite of this knowledge, Melanie realized that her dislike for Helen was based in intuition and not concrete evidence. That was why she had insisted on hiring her own servant. Crystal Harrington was Melanie's obvious choice, much to the chagrin of both Kendrick and Flora. Crystal was a strong willed, intelligent woman of 25: old enough to earn her keep but possibly too old to marry well. Melanie couldn't understand her predicament: what man wouldn't want someone who was as lovely and clever as Miss Harrington. But one look at how her brothers Bramwell and Morgan feuded over such a social climbing boor as Catherine Harridge and tossed aside her meek yet sensitive sister Daphne in the act, put things in perspective. If Crystal had possessed her own fortune, her single "dilemma" would be ideal, at least in Melanie's eyes.

The rest of Melanie's day was spent lounging in the drawing room, secure in the knowledge that her secret was safe. Another courier arrived later in the afternoon, this time carrying a letter addressed especially to her from Quentin. She eagerly read his correspondence, and squealed with glee upon reading that he had taken a bride. Disappointment soon filled joy's place when she discovered that he would not be returning to Collinsport, choosing to relocate to another location instead. Melanie set out to write him back. She wanted to know all about the latest Collins (hoping that Quentin had made a wiser decision than either of her older brothers) and to offer a warm invitation to return to his humble birthplace once tempers settled. Above all else, she wanted her brother to know that he still had a friend in the Collinsport area.

All in all, the afternoon had been completely pleasant.

Kendrick, of course, was the one to ruin her peace. He stormed into her room as she sat at her desk, putting the final touches on her letter to Quentin. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Of what?" asked Melanie innocently.

"Of the way you treated Helen," explained Kendrick. "A lady of your station should know better."

"Know better than to reprimand a disobedient servant?" she demanded, furious that that blithering twit had dared to discredit her to her husband. "Since when did Miss Michaels' rank exceed my own?"

Kendrick sighed in frustration as he took a seat on her velvet divan. "It's not that darling. You need someone to look after you while I'm away."

"Why?

"Have you looked at yourself recently? You're a ghost of the girl you once were. You cannot care for yourself!"

"So you'd prefer me to turn into a heifer as Catherine has?"

"I can't believe you would speak in such a way of Catherine Collins. That honorable woman has shown nothing but kindness to us, even in her most trying times."

Melanie chewed her bottom lip, trying her best not to break into torrents of laughter as she thought of an answer for her husband. Catherine Collins an honorable woman? Wasn't that an oxymoron? It certainly wasn't the truth. It spoke badly of their time that a gold-digging adulteress could be considered virtuous. "I realize that Catherine has done only good in your eyes, but her actions have brought much pain to our family. Her behavior was most unfair to the family. Had she considered her true feelings before marrying my brother, things would have ended much differently."

"But she couldn't have foreseen the future, Melanie. No one could. Morgan was mad!"

"As was I and our problems sprang from the same source. Would have thrown me from the roof as well?"

"Of course not. Why would you ask such a thing?"

"You tell me, darling. You're the one who brought up Morgan's madness, as if that were reason enough for him to die!"

"That's not what I meant!"

"That's what it sounded like!"

"It wouldn't sound that way if you weren't so defensive!"

"I wouldn't be so defensive if my husband took my side in matters of the home. After all, I am the one who sits here day in and day out. How can you know what happens in Rose Cottage if you are never here?"

Kendrick sighed as he rushed to his wife's seat. He took her hands into his, drawing her small palms to his chest as he gently forced her to look into his face. "I don't mean to be cold to you, darling, but you must understand my point of view. You've changed and I don't comprehend it. It frustrates me to see this has happened. I don't know how to talk to you anymore."

"We all change," answered Melanie. The chill in her voice began to thaw as she looked down at her husband. Was he truly suffering because of the rift that had grown between them? She leaned in towards him and felt the tear quietly trickle down his cheek. Did she really understand him as well as she thought? "You must remember," she whispered, "that I am not the most social of people. Please be patient with me as I adjust to this new life."

"I will try, Melanie. If it will ease our tension, I will be patient."

What could she say to this? Melanie expected her husband to growl and continue on with his boorish behavior. This understanding was beyond her comprehension. "Then I've misconstrued your meanings," she whispered, her lips drifting towards his cheek. "I suppose I've not understood you this entire time. But I suppose that happens sometimes in marriage. I've not spoken my will to you nor have you done the same."

"We will do better in the coming months, Melanie. I promise!"

"And so I believe you." Melanie cast her eyes toward a nearby clock and shrieked, "The Shaws will be here any moment. We must hurry downstairs before they arrive."

Kendrick agreed with her and together they walked into the foyer just in time to greet Stephen Shaw, his wife Michelle, and their daughter Melinda. The dinner progressed smoothly, as dinner with friends often does, and Melanie found herself eager to play the enchanting hostess. Occasionally, she caught her husband eye the young Melinda Shaw, and she knew that his yearning to have a child would not dim. They would have to come to an understanding later.

Yet, he surprised her again that night as he walked Melanie to her room. They stopped outside her door, both nervous and unsure of what to do next. Melanie opened the door and stood there, waiting for Kendrick to either ask or demand entry. Instead, Kendrick bent down and kissed her forehead. "I will see you in the morning. Sleep well, my love," he whispered before going into his own room. Melanie remained still, too stunned to speak or move. Had really just done this? "Maybe things will change," she whispered breathlessly. She shook off her confusion and entered her room, locking the doors firmly behind her.

Melanie, for the first time in years, felt free as she prepared for bed. She did not have to rely upon a servant to undress her and force her through the nightly routine of cleanliness and prayer. She could take her time. Melanie realized that even the most mundane tasks, such as brushing her hair, seemed to take much longer than before, but she felt so much more relaxed at this pace. She ended up lying in bed for an hour afterwards, savoring her last few moments of freedom before sleep and the morning stole that away. She fell asleep without a problem.

This did not last long. Melanie awoke with a start. Her eyes blindly scanned the room looking for an unknown intruder. Once she was convinced that she was alone, she closed her eyes and attempted to return to sleep. But just as soon as she shut her eyes, she began to hear her name float through the air. She searched the room again, but quickly realized that she would find no one. "He's here," she whispered as she jumped from the bed. She felt along her dresser until she came upon her heavy woolen shawl. She wrapped it around her shoulders and, after much effort, found a candle and matches. Melanie stood still for a moment, unsure if she wanted to begin her search in earnest. The voice began to become louder, pushing in on Melanie in her room. She sighed and crept barefoot to her door. She would be going out.

Melanie had never before realized how loud Rose Cottage was. Every step caused the house to creak and moan out in pain. She couldn't stand to know that one misstep could cause the whole household to descend upon her, revoking all of the freedoms that she had earned throughout the day. So Melanie quickened her pace and began to sprint through the house. She came to a screeching halt feet from the front door. She noticed dim light begin to grow brighter. Someone was coming. Melanie dunked in behind the drawing room doors, crouching down and pulling her legs together tightly. She snuffed the candle and watched through the crack as the light spread throughout the foyer. She stifled a growl as she watched Helen Michaels emerge. Melanie watched as she shuffled through the room, holding her candle up to the various bits of artwork that lined the walls before moving on to the next. Melanie couldn't understand what she was doing. Had she heard something? Was she just snooping around? As far as she could tell, her motivations were of no concern. Her presence was enough of a nuisance on its own.

Luckily, Helen soon grew tired of waiting and wandered back out of sight. Melanie slowly crept out from behind the door and made a mad dash toward the door, tripping and nearly falling in the process. Her mind raced, contemplating every option for punishment that Kendrick might come up with when he found her by the door. But to her relief, no one came. Unlike before, the house had grown infinitely silent. Quickly, she rose from her resting place and left the building.

Once outside, Melanie found herself lost in the darkness. The voice seemed fainter and no longer seemed to be calling out for her. At that moment, the whole ordeal seemed to be a great mistake. "How could I believe something so ridiculous?" she whispered. Melanie crumbled to the ground, burying her head in her hands in an attempt to muffle her sobs. She wondered how she would explain her lethargy the next morning. Would any excuse be good enough? Melanie knew that everyone would nod in sympathy but secretly view her as pitiful and fickle. But just when she was about to trudge back into the house, Melanie heard the voice. She could hear a difference this time in the strength of the voice. It seemed to breathe light into the night and Melanie finally saw the path she had to take to reach her destination. Melanie jumped from the steps and ran off into the forest.

Although the path was apparent to Melanie, it was not safe or easy. Her tender feet were quickly bruised and cut by rocks and briars. Wayward tree limbs refused to budge and often smacked her on the face and arms when she tried to move them. But Melanie wouldn't dream of turning back this time. The voice grew stronger as she trudged through the forest. Melanie appeased her worried mind with thoughts of ecstasy and release. She was sure these desires would be appeased when she reached her destination. They were before.

Melanie came to halt in the thickest part of the woods. Immediately, the voice stopped, allowing the darkness and return to overpower her vision. This time, Melanie refused to be afraid. She fell to her knees, extended her arms to the heavens and said, "I am here. Please do with me as you will!"

The forest remained silent. Melanie continued to hold her pose despite the growing numbness of her fingers. Her eyes focused ahead on the only figure she could distinctly see: a leafless limb. She believed that hours passed before she noticed it twitch and, to her surprise, bud. The buds swelled and finally burst, emitting beams of white light. Stunned, Melanie gasped and tried to scamper away. Her movement stopped as a hand grabbed her wrist. Melanie attempted to scream but another hand clamped around her mouth. The light that had filled the forest died away and all Melanie could see was a pair of bright yellow eyes. "Were you trying to leave?" asked a velvety voice.

"No," she whimpered through the hand. She knew this voice well, or, at least, she thought she did. The voice, before, had seemed so warm and kind. On this night, Melanie noticed that it seemed harsher somehow. She demurely waited for him to remove his hand before adding, "They know you are real."

"Who are 'they' Mi . . . Melanie?"

"The Constable and his men. He sent a note to my husband to warn him about you. They wanted to lock me way so that you could not find me."

The man laughed to humor her. "I can assume that your husband never received that note, correct?"

"He'll never know No one ever will."

The man sighed. Melanie sat still, listening to his footsteps pace in front of her. She wanted her revelation to be greeted warmly. Melanie had remained loyal and fearless in the face of adversity. That, she believed, had to count for something. She was shocked to hear him ask, "You believe yourself to be strong, don't you Melanie?"

"No," she answered. "I am different than before but I am not strong."

"You will be when I'm through with you." He began to circle her, his pace slow and menacing. Each time he circled round her front, Melanie watched his large yellow eyes wander over her body. She couldn't get over the notion that he was judging her on some unknown criteria. His footsteps stopped suddenly when he circled behind him. "You are bleeding."

Melanie swallowed hard. "I know. I take it that you want to feed."

"Do you want me to?" he asked, his breathe suddenly inches from her ear.

"Yes." Part of Melanie scream for a reprieve. "How can you fall so far?" asked an inner voice. Melanie believed that she had. The night Brutus Collins was defeated had changed her forever. Her madness had been removed but in its place was instilled the knowledge that lives can dramatically change for the better. Melanie wanted something else from life. She didn't know this man but she wanted to know what he had to offer.

Lazily, Melanie allowed her arms to fall to her side. In an instant, the man fell in by her side. Melanie watched his dimly outlined hands wrap around her waist. She became nervous as she felt soft hair brush against her chest and neck. For a moment, she saw an ivory flash as his mouth widened and descended upon her neck. Her nervousness evaporated as his fangs sunk into her neck. Melanie was flooded with emotions she rarely felt. The Vampire wanted her and, better yet, asked her permission before acting. She wanted to show her appreciation. She attempted to move against his body but he tightened his grip around her, forcing her to lay still. She remained that way throughout the act. Although thwarted, Melanie felt light and satisfied.

When he finished, the Vampire spread Melanie's exhausted body out along the ground. He smoothed back her sweat drenched hair and said, "I will see you again tomorrow night. Do not disappoint me."

Despite her wishes, Melanie could not respond. She watched as the Vampire disappeared in a ball of light. She tried to move but found her body to sluggish to follow her commands. For a moment, agitation and fear gripped her body, trying to force her back to the house and the loving embrace of her husband. But Melanie quickly let it slide away. There was nothing that would bring her back. It was almost poetic. Even the choices Melanie made to better herself left her broken and alone.

Kendrick Young discovered his wife's body after a two-hour search. All the men from Collinwood joined in the search, storming over the grounds until nothing had been left untouched by human hands. Melanie was discovered in an uncharted portion of the woods and no one but Kendrick had been willing to go in to search. Everyone agreed that he had been brave. Melanie was barely clinging to life when he found her. Dr. Fletcher believed that she would recover but her recuperation would take many months. Kendrick wasn't worried. "As long as she recovers," he mumbled as he sat by her side.

Hours later, Kendrick led an estate wide conference that dealt with the new menace that was plaguing Collinwood. All of concerned parties could agree to an early curfew and extra protection from the servants for those who have to go outside. It seemed only natural that these precautions would be taken. But Kendrick wasn't satisfied. He heard his wife babbling a name in her delirium. Kendrick, naturally, was convinced that this name was important and might be of interest to the police. When he mentioned this name to the other men, they paled and changed the subject. He couldn't understand their reactions.

"My God!" Kendrick finally exclaimed. "Why can't you tell me? Who is Jeremiah?"