Note to all: I blatantly ripped off a name from Great Expectation in this chapter! Sorry if my unoriginality when it comes to names offends anyone! Also, I just realized that I have never written a disclaimer, so here goes; I do not own a damn thing, not even my own soul- I sold that…oopps…
And as always…please
please please review!
As he expected, Erik saw Jaimie Davis come up the front drive not long after the day had begun, carrying a basket with her,
"Good morning," she said brightly when she saw Erik, "I made these last night; muffins for breakfast," she extended the basket to him,
He took one of the baked goods and smiled, "I believe John is down by the water,"
"Oh," Jaimie colored noticeably, "Is he? I didn't even think…" she trailed off and blushed further,
"I am sure he is hungry," Erik said, and then he pretended to have something else to go and do so Jaimie could hide her embarrassment and then head off to the river,
Erik moved through the rest of the house. It was coming along quite well; the stairs had been repaired, new floors had gone down, and the walls were being refinished. The plumbing was being updated as well. All in all Calvin was doing a superb job,
"What do you think of the house?" Calvin asked Erik as they walked through the rooms,
"It looks amazing, I never suspected it could look like this," Erik said, "And it is getting done quickly,"
"This is what I wanted to talk to you about," Calvin said, and he sounded a bit worried, "It is John and this girl he met yesterday, since he met her he had not concentrated on a single thing,"
Erik did not hesitate, "Don't worry about the boy; I introduced him to the girl, so don't blame him for the consequences,"
Calvin nodded and continued to speak; talking about the details of renovation and Erik responded, correcting Calvin and adding his own ideas, but Erik was not really paying attention. As he walked through the gutted rooms, he could not help but think about other things. He saw the once great rooms which had fallen into despair, now being renovated; renewed. As they entered the large dinning room which Erik suspected he would never use, he stared at the room which was slowly being brought back to life. Maybe, Erik thought, maybe it was never too late to be brought back to life.
Later, Evette Davis and her husband road to the estate house; the main reason was that Evette knew there were hungry workers at the house that wanted food, and she wanted to cook for them. However, there was also the mystery of their disappearing daughter.
'You think Jaimie is there, don't you?" Evette said concerned,
"Of course she is," Elliot responded, "She has always used any excuse possible to visit that house; I just hope she is not too much of a nuisance to the men,"
Erik saw the Davis's cart pull to a stop in front of his house and he wondered what they were doing. He went out to greet them,
"Good to see you two again," He said, shaking Elliot's hand, "To what do I owe the honor?"
"Food," Evette said, "You need a real dinner, especially with all these people around," and Evette bustled off toward the kitchen; Erik did not have the heart to her that the kitchen probably was unusable,
"Is Jaimie still here?" Elliot asked Erik as they walked into the house,
"Yes, she is around here somewhere," Erik responded, wondering were she and John had gone off to,
It turned out that even though the kitchen was in disarray, Evette managed to make a meal large enough for everyone to eat, and also delicious enough for everyone to want to eat more. Jaimie and John were found, and no sooner did they appear than Elliot pulled his daughter away from the handsome young man and told her to help her mother.
Nadir emerged from the music room just in time for the meal Evette had prepared. It was not a conventional meal by any means, due to the fact that there was not dinning room table to eat at. The only solution to be reached was that they all sit outside on blankets in the grass. Erik had attacked the once over grown lawn and not the blades were less gigantic and it was perfectly suitable to sit in the grass.
As hard as he tried to prevent it, Jaimie sat next to John. Erik sat in between Evette and Nadir.
"Well, it is an official record," Evette said to Erik as they ate, "You have been here the longest since, well, since I can remember,"
This gave Erik an idea, "How much do you know about the original owners of this place?" he asked her,
"Oh, nothing really," Evette said, "This estate has been vacant since we arrived on the farm,"
"Madame Havisham might know something about the original owners, if you are really interested," Elliot offered,
"Who is she?" Erik asked; he had hoped he could get some answers about who Annabelle was without having to meet any other people, but if he had to, he guessed he had to,
"Oh! She is a brilliant, exocentric old woman," Jaimie interjected, "I go up to her house sometimes, to bring her things; I am sure she could tell you something, I can bring you up there if you like," Jaimie was feeling an overwhelming gratitude toward Erik, she knew he had introduced her to John on purpose and she felt so thankful she would have done anything to return the favor,
"I would be greatly indebted if you could," Erik said; he supposed meeting one old woman was not such a great task, if it could bring him closer to an answer.
They went the next day. Nadir had received a letter than morning and had immediately gone back to Paris. He had assured his friend it was nothing serious, and that he would be back by nightfall. Jaimie Davis drove her father's cart to the estate where Erik was waiting for her.
"Thank you again," Erik said as he climbed up and sat beside Jaimie, "I really appreciate this,"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Jaimie cried, "I should be thanking you! You knew I would like John, didn't you?" she beamed at him like a woman in love as she spoke,
"I did have a suspicion you two might get along," Erik said slyly,
"So why are we going here? is this something to do with the ghost?" Jaimie asked curiously,
"Well, yes," Erik admitted, "I believe she used to live in the house; the ghost that is, and I want to know more about the people who used to own it,"
Madame Havisham lived a mile up the road from the estate Erik had purchased. As the cart turned down the drive, Erik took in the aging manor; much like his own house had been, it was a perfect show of decaying glory; a once great house condemned by time to fall into disrepair. Some of the windows were broken; the shutters hang at awkward angles where the nails holding them to the wood had fallen out. The lawn was overgrown, and on the house hung the tell tall vines, curling there way upward and slowly suffocating the old house.
Erik and Jaimie walked up to the front door and Jaimie rapped confidently on it three times. A moment later a man opened the door,
"Hello Jean," Jaimie said,
"Ah! My beautiful Jaimie!" Jean said with a smile, "So good to see you as always; and who is this?" he looked at Erik,
"This is Monsieur Beaumont; he just bought the old estate up the road," Jaimie explained,
"Oh you mean the…?" Jean asked, looking meaningfully at Jaimie,
She laughed, "He knows it is haunted,"
"Well it is good someone finally had the pluck to stay there, very nice to meet you Monsieur," Jean said, shaking Erik's hand,
Erik felt his stomach tighten as he shook Jean's hand and watched his eyes dart from his strange mask to his eyes and back again, not quite certain where to look. Erik still hated meeting people, but he forced himself to remain calm, "You can call me Erik," he said as he released Jean's hand,
"Very well, Erik," he paused for a moment, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your coming?" he asked,
"We would like to speak to Madame, if that is alright," Jaimie said,
"I will go and see how she feels," Jean hurried away,
"Jean is her live in caretaker," Jaimie explained as they waited for him to return, "He is the only other one working here, and he make sure she is alright,"
Erik nodded but remained silent; looking around the foyer they were standing in. It reminded him very much of his own house, only there was slightly less dust covering everything, and also the air lacked that electric tension Erik had felt when he had first arrived, the tension which had led him to the room he was standing in at the moment.
Jean came back soon after, "Madame will see you both," he said, "Follow me," and he led them off toward the back of the house. He showed them into an old living room; as with the one in Erik's house, there was a layer of dust over most of it, and the furniture was old fashioned and a bit outdated style wise. The grand window of the room was the only thing which looked as though it was cleaned regularly; it was easy to see out of it and gaze at the large, rolling green fields and full trees of the French countryside. In front of this window sat Madame Havisham.
Madame was seated in a wooden wheelchair, gazing out the large window to the sparkling world outside. Erik found that the appearance of the elderly woman was much like her house itself; aging glory. Madame Havisham had the once no doubt been a beautiful woman, and though her skin was now wrinkled and her hair was now gray and thinning, she still held her head high on her long neck and gave off a regal sense,
She turned as Erik and Jaimie walked into the room, "Dear Jaimie! You look as beautiful as ever," she smiled as Jaimie bent to kiss her cheek, "And who is this young man?" she turned her eyes, which were beginning to fail her, toward Erik,
"Erik Beaumont," he responded, not sure how to greet the woman,
"Well I am very pleased to meet you Erik; now I am an old woman and I don't have much time to waist; what is it that you two wanted to ask me?" she said in a business like tone,
"I just moved into the old estate house down the road," Erik began; if she wanted to get right down to it than he would get right down to it,
"You mean the haunted estate?" Madame Havisham interrupted,
"So you do know about it?" Jaimie said excitedly,
"I do know something about it, yes," a far off look came over Madame Havisham's dark eyes,
"Do you remember anyone named Annabelle?" Erik asked in a low voice, hoping this woman knew something. It was hard to explain his new found obsession; even in his own head he sometimes wondered why he cared about this so much when he had never cared for anything else in his life. He thought at first it was merely a distraction from his tortured past, but he was coming to realize it was much more. He believed it was the ghost herself, urging him on and making him feel as though there were something he needed to discover.
When he had first entered the house, he had felt the strange energy curse all around him, giving him an awkward and unwanted feeling which had tied into his then mood of anger and frustration. Slowly, as he spent more and more time in the house; his feeling toward it all had changed. Instead of hating the presence in his manor he welcomed it into his very soul. This was why he sat with such attentiveness and appeared outwardly calm as he sat by Madame Havisham and waited for her to respond,
"Oh yes, I was a young girl then but I remember Annabelle; beautiful girl, and quite a dancer when it was allowed," Madame Havisham laughed slightly as she remembered a time long past, "I saw her once on stage in Paris; everyone was in love with her, and they all agreed she was the greatest dancer Paris had ever seen,"
Erik nodded eagerly, and beside him Jaimie waited with bated breath,
"Annabelle was a free sprit back in those days," Madame Havisham continued, and she still faced her eyes toward the window, not looking at Erik and Jaimie, "She was a real pistol; always in trouble with her parents, but they both spoiled her anyway; I don't think they could help themselves,"
Madame Havisham sighed and paused for a moment. Erik wanted desperately for her to continue; so far she had painted a picture of Annabelle but she had drawn in none of the details. One thing about what she had said did bother Erik however,
"She was spoiled?" he questioned; for some reason he had always imagined the girl as sweet and innocent,
"Oh yes! She got everything she wanted! But I know what you are wondering; no, she was no brat. She was strong willed, but not a brat. I was much younger than she and she used to play games with me, and she taught me to dance; she was a charming woman and knew how to get everything she wanted, but she was not a brat,"
Erik nodded, and then Madame Havisham continued slowly, "Well…she got almost everything she wanted; it was sad really, and probably the reason her sprit still lingers in her old house,"
"What happened?" Jaimie breathed, sitting on the edge of her seat,
"Annabelle only fell in love once; with her piano teacher…no! not her teacher, my mind is going in my old age, the man who played piano while she danced at her school, oh they were mad about each other," Madame Havisham turned to face Erik and Jaimie and a strange light had come into her dark eyes,
"It was true love that they had; she used to read me some of the notes he wrote her when we would go and play, and she cherished every word; she was in love,"
Madame Havisham sighed, and the light which had shown so brightly a moment before now was extinguished and she stared down at her hands folded in her lap, "they made plans to run away together of course, but her father found out, and this was the one thing he would not let her have,"
"What did he do?" Jaimie asked,
"He locked her in her room so she could not go and meet him; no daughter of his was going to run off with a pauper, and he threatened to have the poor boy arrested if he ever came near her. He tried to of course, and they did put him in jail; it was terrible really. They moved away quickly, and from what I heard from my parents they married her off to some rich, noble family; de something; I don't recall the name, and that was the last I heard of her," Madame Havisham's voice sounded very far away by the end of her story and she gazed across the wide, green lawns, remembering,
Erik let his own thoughts wonder; so that was why she had returned; the house had been the place where she had been happy and in love; it was logical that a part of her would remain.
They left the house minutes later, claiming that they had work to do on the house and they needed to get back. They thanked the old woman and left her to her window. Madame Havisham stared out at the summer scene and thought of the days when she had been a part of that scene; running through the fields with her hair streaming out behind her. Most elderly become terribly depressed when they think about all they will never do again, but Madame Havisham was not upset; though her legs were bound to immobility she let her soul fly out the window and run for her.