Disclaimer: Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis Production and not mine nor do I own the lyrics to Quentin's theme
CHAPTER 6: PAST AND PRESENT LOVES
"Wh... er... what... are you?"
Joe frighteningly stared at the faint wispy form of Millicent Collins in the cold and dark tower room. The winter night streamed through the barred window, weakly bathing Millicent in a soft white glow.
The frailed looking woman looked at the young man with the most appalled look in her eyes.
"How wretchedly vulgar and terribly disgraceful of you!" she screeched at him. "It is always proper for a gentleman to present himself to a lady when they are formally introduced."
"What... what is this?" Joe's voice a mixture of anger, confusion, and fear. "Why do you look like..." Impulsively, Joe extended his hand to touch her, only for his entire arm to slink right through her torso. Her form felt like a curtain of icy water. Joe instantly recoiled his hand, his eyes growing wider.
Millicent looked at him softly.
"It has been common knowledge that the walls of Collinwood are perpetually haunted," she stated.
Joe shook his head in disbelief, his eyes filled with deep denial. "No, that can't be it!"
"You have been coming to Collinwood ever since you were a little boy," Millicent whispered knowingly, staring at Joe blankly. "You've always been afraid of the ghosts haunting the corridors."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Joe denied hastily.
But he did know what she was talking about. How did this strange woman possibly know of Joe's visits to Collinwood when he was a little boy? He and Carolyn used to keep a look out for ghosts in various forbidden areas of the mansion and then hide away from them.
"You believed in ghosts then." Millicent stifled a giggle, then gave Joe a look as if she could read his mind.
"I-I was... a child," Joe stammered. "I don't believe in ghosts and goblins anymore!"
"Then why can you see me?" Millicent giggled teasingly. "I know with great certainty that I am not the only ghost you have witnessed today. I can see it in your eyes."
"No," Joe said more to himself, covering his head. "I must be imagining it. She's not real. Just like that guy that looked like me down in the foyer. It's not real!"
"The dead are not your greatest burden," Millicent murmured, forcing Joe to open up his eyes to acknowledge her again. "The witch has you under her wicked thrall. I'm afraid you are cursed."
"What?" Joe breathed. "No... no, Mrs. Collins is not a witch. We're just being formal with each other. I'm just helping her out with some... things," he finished lamely.
"Here in the tower room in the middle of the night?" Millicent looked at him dubiously.
"I don't have to take this!" Joe snapped at her as he stormed his way to the door. "Mrs. Collins is not a witch, and she doesn't have me under some spell!" He slammed his way out of the tower room, leaving Millicent alone with the most pitying look etched across her transparent face.
"If that is true, then why is your will not of your own?" she whispered grimly.
In a blurry delirium, Barnabas found himself trailing along the sandy shores of Martinique. He was garbed in leather boots, a black eighteenth-century frilly suit, with a matching billowing cape, and an assortment of jewelry.
The evening light clung onto the edge of the exotic sky, coated in orange and pink colors through the fluffy clouds. Flocks of squawking seagulls glided above the crashing waves on the shores.
Through the distance, Barnabas spotted a figure sitting quietly alone on the soft sands on the beach. It was a figure of a woman with her eyes closed tight.
It looked to Barnabas as if she was in deep meditation.
Upon closer inspection, with her plain white floral dress, white bonnet, and flowing blonde hair pulled up into a bun, Barnabas recognized her as one of the servant girls Angelique. She was the one who was assigned to serve him when he arrived at the island to conduct business with Count André du Pres. She was the only servant there who spoke fluent English, thus why she was assigned to serve Barnabas.
As he drew closer, Barnabas thought of Angelique as someone who was very beautiful and very alluring.
He quietly approached her.
"Mademoiselle?"
Angelique shot open her wide blue eyes at the sound of his voice. She gazed up at him in deep surprise.
A series of quick images spliced through Barnabas' memory. Images of Barnabas strolling the beach with Angelique, kissing her passionately by the du Pres mansion under the moonlight sky, surprising her with a small red flower from the gardens, then secretly making sweet love to her in her sparse quarters. But all of that quickly shifted. What came next was an image of Angelique standing in streaks of sunlight in the magnificent oak foyer in the du Pres mansion. It was where Barnabas first met her. But he was not there with her.
Count du Pres was by her side explaining something to her.
"You are no longer reacquired to serve Monsieur Barnabas. He has returned to America with the joyous news in taking our lovely Josette's hand in marriage. We will be joining them in America before long."
At those echoed words, Angelique's blue eyes darkened.
Barnabas felt every intense emotion raging wildly through her. He felt her anger, hurt, betrayal, heartbreak, and rage.
Barnabas blinked open his dark eyes once he felt Julia finished giving him the injection. The vampire found himself back strapped in the hard uncomfortable chair in his doctor's dungeon laboratory in the Old House's basement.
The strange liquid green concoction brew in the cauldron with hot steam billowing out of it as usual. The chemistry tubes were swirling in activity with the various serums running quickly and smoothly inside them.
Barnabas watched from his strapped chair as Julia wiped the injection needle with a cloth, and placed it on the table in the center of her laboratory.
"You have been pretty quiet this evening, Barnabas." Julia broke their long-standing silence. "I assume the witch has sent you another nightmare." She turned to face him from the table.
"She wanted to remind me of how I hurt her," Barnabas stated from his strapped chair.
He gazed down on his bare arm where his white dress sleeve was rolled up. He glanced at the little puncture hole where Julia gave the injection.
Julia stared at him softly. There was not much she knew of Barnabas' past relationship with Angelique. All she was told by the ghosts was Barnabas and Josette were deeply in love and wanted to marry nearly two centuries prior, but the witch Angelique cursed them and his family in a jealous rage.
"Have you really hurt her, Barnabas?" Julia questioned with a lifted brow.
"Presumed if I did, that doesn't excuse her to harm my family and many innocent people," Barnabas said darkly.
With that, Barnabas sadly thought of the people he had loved and lost, and were now holding him prisoner. He remembered how Sarah and his mother died in his arms, how Josette was sickly manipulated to throw herself off Widows Hill, and how she became truly gone to Barnabas when his efforts to bring her back resulted in her becoming a grotesque disfigured zombie. He also remembered how Angelique caused Ben Stokes to lose his will, and poor Phyllis Wick. She was young Sarah and Daniel's governess, and was falsely accused of witchcraft. She was hung rather heartlessly at the gallows. But Angelique was the true witch who framed Phyllis. Sadly Barnabas' own murder of his wife and the Reverend Trask, whose skeleton was concealed behind one of the brick walls in this very basement, hadn't saved Phyllis.
Unsure what he was thinking of, or how to console him due to the haunted look veiling his eyes, Julia stepped up to him and unstrapped him from the chair. Barnabas got up and rolled down his dress sleeve. He then put on his coat.
"I am pleased to report that we're making great progress," Julie informed him. "If all goes according to my calculations, you'll be able to step out into the daylight in a few days time."
"Not if Angelique has anything to say about it," Barbara said drearily.
"I keep telling you I won't allow that to happen, Barnabas," said Julia. "And neither will Josette, your family, and even Willie Loomis and Maggie Evans. We all have something to gain in this"
Realizing he hadn't sensed any cold ghostly activity, Barnabas asked, "Where is Josette?"
"Haunting around someplace, I'm sure." Julia shrugged. "She is the mistress of this house, you know."
The two then heard the front double doors bursting wide open upstairs.
"Josette?!"
"Josette?!"
"Hey, Josette!"
Willie and Maggie seemed to have barged right into the Old House, and Willie was hollering the loudest. They're stomping footsteps rattled the basement ceiling.
"Evidently, you are not the only one that wants Josette, Barnabas," Julia quipped.
Upstairs, Willie and Maggie frantically scampered into the parlor, bundled up in their long warm coats.
The winter night fogged outside the bay window, but the parlor ward the chilly dark away with its various lit candles placed on their candelabras and candlesticks. The soft glow of the fireplace feebly warmed the room. Josette's portrait perched high above the fireplace mantel as always.
"Josette!" Willie bellowed loudly.
But no soul, living or dead, seemed to be present. But the familiar fragrance of jasmine began wrinkling up Maggie's nose. The soft tingling mystic melody of the music box came accompanying it.
Willie and Maggie gazed at each other.
"She must be around here, Willie," Maggie reasoned. "Her music and scent are here."
"Willie? Maggie?"
At the sound of her voice, Willie and Maggie started. They turned their gaze up to the portrait. What they saw caused them to yelp and comically throw themselves into each other's arms.
The transparent ghost of the Old House's mistress sat comfortably inside her portrait like an important royal.
"You both wanted to see me?" the ghost inquired importantly.
Willie and Maggie blinked, as though adjusting their vision. But nothing was deceiving them. Josette really was sitting inside her portrait, illuminated in an unnatural surreal white glow. The two had never seen her that way before, sitting inside a lifeless object. It was truly bizarre.
Willie and Maggie were still tightly grasped in each other's arms, their eyes wide over the portrait.
"The... the West Wing is haunted," Maggie nervously supplied to the ghost.
"What?" Julia entered the parlor along with Barnabas.
Willie and Maggie looked at them warily, still clinging tightly in each other's awkward embrace.
"Whom have you both encountered?" Barnabas inquired.
"I didn't see him," Willie muttered to the vampire. "Maggie did."
But when Barnabas turned his gaze on Maggie, however, she herself didn't answer him. She couldn't stand the sight of her former tormentor. She shifted her gaze up to Josette in her portrait instead.
"I saw a ghost that looks like Willie," she exclaimed shakily. "There is a paneled wall in one of the corridors in the West Wing that seems to be haunted."
"Haunted?" Julia furrowed her brow.
"Yeah, me and Maggie saw a woman ghost hauntin' there," Willie told her, still clinging tightly to Maggie.
"Yes, and the ghost that looks like Willie said I look like Rachel," Maggie continued, her eyes still on the portrait. "I don't know what that means. I thought I only look like you, Josette."
"Oh, how many people looks like you in the past, Maggie?!" Willie shot at her mortified.
"What about Angelique's portrait, Willie?" Barnabas interjected haughtily. "I trust you have acquired it?"
"No, Barnabas, I didn't," Willie said irritably. "I was busy dealin' with Devlin and goin' over construction plans."
Barnabas glared at him coldly.
"Be patient, Barnabas," Josette said calmly from her portrait, reminding him who was in charge of the Old House. "We need to plot rationally in order to get rid of Angelique."
"There is something going on in that house," Maggie murmured, referring to Collinwood. "The ghost that looks like Willie said that a terrible murderous monster is locked up behind that wall."
Barnabas became alarmed by this development. "Does Angelique know about this?"
"Oh, Barnabas, how should we know!" Willie retorted panically.
"I don't think she does," Maggie said thoughtfully. "The ghosts are quite adamant in guarding that wall."
"Well, panicking about it won't get us anywhere." Julia pulled out a sparkling green medallion from the inside pocket of her gray and green cardigan sweater.
"What's that?" Willie stared at the item suspiciously.
"I'd like for you two to look at this," Julia instructed them.
"What for?" Maggie gave her a withering look.
"It will help us," said Julia.
"How?" Maggie was absolutely unconvinced.
"Look deep into the lights of this medallion," Julia said in a no-nonsense tone. "Can you two see them?"
In spite of themselves, bright, shiny red, blue, yellow, and green lights began to entrance Willie and Maggie.
"Can you see the center?" Julia asked them.
"I... I... think I can," Maggie said captivated.
"Can you see it, Willie?" asked Julia
"I... I... dunno," Willie answered, but his gaze was glued on the medallion.
"I want you two to forget about the West Wing," Julia ordered them.
"Forget about the West Wing," Maggie said in a monotone voice.
"Yes, forget about the West Wing," Julia repeated.
"But I hafta work there," Willie said monotonously.
" Just forget about that wall, and forget about those ghosts," said Julia. "The witch is the one you both need to worry about."
"The witch?" Willie continued to be entranced by the shiny medallion.
"Yes, she is trying to ruin everything for all of us," said Julia. "Concentrate on getting rid of her."
"Getting rid of the witch," Willie and Maggie intoned in unison.
"Yes," Julia said pleased.
She snapped her fingers, causing Willie and Maggie to instantly blink. Julia quickly deposited her medallion back in her inside pocket.
"Dr. Hoffman?" Maggie gave a quizzical frown.
She stared around the parlor, dumbfounded why she was at the Old House. She also realized she was inexplicably in Willie's arms. The two sheepishly released each other from their tight hold.
"Hello, Maggie, Willie," Julia said to them in greeting. "Have you come by to give reports to Barnabas about the witch's portrait?"
"Wha..." Willie was hopelessly confused.
"Have you got the witch's portrait in your possession?" Julia clarified.
"Um... no." Willie shook his head guiltily, and ran a hand through his sandy hair.
"Well, you better possess it soon," said Julia firmly. "I am making excellent progress in curing Barnabas, and we can't afford any complications."
"No," Willie agreed with a shake of his head, while Maggie stared at Barnabas narrowly.
"I-I'll snatch the portrait tomorrow," Willie promised her. "I swear."
"Good," said Julia.
"And when you do, Willie," said Barnabas, "I would like for you to leave it to me to dispose of."
"Okay." Willie nodded timidly. "Are ya feelin' any better, Barnabas? Dontcha feel any different?"
"My supernatural powers are slowly ebbing away," Barnabas answered silkily.
But to Maggie, her former tormentor didn't seem very human. He still seemed harsh and cold.
"I expect a progress report from you, Willie," said Barnabas. "Keep me informed about Cassandra, and all the happenings in Collinwood."
"O-Okay, Barnabas," Willie stuttered.
"Josette!" Maggie jerked her head and gazed up at the portrait above the mantel.
All she saw was a motionless woman from another time in a faint old painting. There was no mystic old song from a music box haunting the air, or some phantom jasmine fragrance filling the room. She didn't know why she was expecting some other scenario.
"Wasn't Josette here?" asked Maggie.
"You wanted to see her, but she is not here at the moment," Julia lied to her.
Willie placed a hand on Maggie's shoulder. "C'mon, Maggie, I'll take ya home."
Barnabas and Julia watched them exit the Old House.
Barnabas gave Julia an admirable look. But before he could say anything to her, someone beat him to the punch.
"That was rather deceitful!"
Josette's ghost sharply materialized in front of Julia as her music and scent powerfully returned to the room. She cast the doctor a sharp disapproving glare.
"It was necessary," Julia insisted defensively. "I only do that as a last resort. Besides, you manipulated Willie and Maggie for your own purposes when Maggie was being held captive here."
"Why did you do it?" Josette demanded, ignoring the doctor's insinuation.
"They're getting too hysterical over the West Wing," Julia said exasperated. "Cassandra is the biggest threat that we all need to pay careful attention to."
"But what about that wall," said Barnabas. "What if it becomes a burden to us?"
"I highly think Josette should investigate that," Julia suggested. "Considering the living are not permitted to go near that place."
At that, Josette faded away in a huff, her tingling chill shivering down Julia's spine like sharp ice.
"Oh, I hope she gets over this," Julia muttered.
"You're becoming more fascinating and intriguing than I initially thought, doctor." Barnabas said to her.
"Oh, you should know by now that I am completely on your side, Barnabas," said Julia. "You are far too unique to slip through my professional fingers."
Josette floated down the empty upstairs corridors. The area was dark, but there wasn't much dust or cobwebs. Ever since Julia was welcomed, the doctor did some occasional dusting to make the whole living arrangement livable for her.
The ghost of Josette's aunt, the Countess Natalie du Pres, appeared before her niece. Since the Countess was a doppelgänger of Julia, it was decided that she shouldn't show herself to the doctor, in fear that it might disrupt Barnabas' cure.
"Barnabas seems to be responding tremendously to these treatments," Natalie said thickly.
"Yes, I am very pleased," Josette murmured in a nod.
"But I've yet to see any evidence of this cure bringing back his humanity," Natalie stated critically. "With the way he treated the servant boy downstairs, he was far more gracious to Ben Stokes and the other servants of our time."
"Barnabas is a good man, aunt Natalie," Josette insisted. "I know it and I feel it in my heart."
The Countess had no retort to that, and the two dematerialized their way into Josette's elegant bedroom.
Once they entered the bedroom, however, a skeletal phantom greeted them in a loud harlequin red, blue, and yellow jester costume, complete with hat. The phantom cackled hysterically as he closed in on them like he was going to attack, but he vanished in a puff of gray smoke once he was upon them. When the smoke vanished, Josette and Natalie were mystified by what just had occurred. Then they heard another hysterical cackling, this one more jovial.
Carl emerged from the fancy window draperies.
"Oh, you two," he chortled.
Ben's ghost stood by Josette's canopy bed with one of his patented apologetic looks on his face. It was a look Josette became accustomed with since she recruited Carl.
"Did ya want to see Mr. Carl?" the servant asked Josette, as the man in question continued to audibly giggled by the draperies.
"Why yes, Ben." Josette nodded her approval.
She floated up to Carl at the window.
"Carl, have you plotted your strategy against the witch?"
"Oh, I have so many plans for that house," Carl snickered insidiously.
"But what about the witch, you silly fool!" Natalie chided him sternly.
"Oh, I tickled her today without her knowing, and she stumbled over!" Carl burst out laughing some more.
"Tickled?" Natalie raised her nose at him. "Tickled. That wicked woman destroyed my niece and betrayed a powerful trust. And your grand scheme of things is to give her a tickle!"
"It is not my grand scheme of things," Carl pouted. "I was... observing her."
Unimpressed, Natalie returned her steely gaze back to her niece. "Josette, please, I beg of you, reconsider in summoning Jeremiah."
"Aunt Natalie, please, I refuse to disturb his rest," Josette stubbornly resisted for the umpteenth time.
Millicent quickly swooped her way through the draperies from outside the winter night and flew hurriedly into the bedroom transparently.
"Josette!"
"Yes, Millicent."
"Who is the dark, handsome stranger that shares the physical appearance of Lt. Forbes?" Millicent asked worryingly.
"I believe he is Maggie Evans' former lover Joe Haskell," Josette replied helpfully. "Why?"
"Oh." Millicent floated away from the window fretfully, looking deeply troubled.
"What is the matter, Millicent?" Josette asked her gently.
"I'm afraid the witch cast a spell on that gentleman," Millicent murmured.
"Then he is under the witch's willful control," said Natalie.
"We all need to be wary of him," Josette stated.
"Is there a way to help him?" Millicent queried hopefully.
"Vanishing Angelique will be tremendous help for him," said Josette.
"Oh." Millicent shifted her gaze to Ben. "Ben, you were under the witch's thrall, correct?"
"Aye." Ben nodded, his eyes both fearful and resentful of that harsh memory.
"Then how were you release from her spell?"
"Mr. Barnabas bit me, an' I fell un'der 'is thrall," Ben supplied.
"Oh, dear," Millicent said in distress. "We are attempting to cure Barnabas from his monstrosity. He shan't bite Mr. Haskell, even to release him from the witch!"
"I would like for you all to leave my quarters," Josette ordered calmly. "I'd like to speak with Mr. Carl alone."
"Very well." Natalie honored her niece's wishes.
"Oh, poor Mr. Haskell," Millicent cried sorrowfully, as Natalie and Ben ushered her out of the bedroom with a comforting hand, leaving Josette alone with Carl.
"I just received a visit from Maggie Evans and Willie Loomis," Josette informed the prankster.
"The ones that look like you and I?" Carl gestured his hands between himself and Josette.
"Yes, and you apparently met Maggie today," said Josette.
"Yes, I was protecting her like you order me to," said Carl.
"From a force more despicable than Angelique?" Josette questioned sharply.
Carl looked at her, taken by surprise.
"How did you..."
"I know there are many secrets in Collinwood," Josette cut him off firmly. "But what in heaven's name is behind that wall?"
Carl lowered his fearful gaze.
"It is best that you don't know," he answered lowly.
"Maggie claimed you were warning her about a monster," Josette pressed.
Carl gazed up at her with dark eyes.
"Yes, a monster that has to remain locked up," he exclaimed frightened.
"Is he like Barnabas?" Josette asked curiously.
"No, he is a spirit," Carl answered.
"An evil spirit." Josette nodded thoughtfully.
"And he is most horrible," said Carl.
"Does Angelique know of him?" Josette inquired.
"No," Carl assured her.
"That is a relief." Josette sighed.
"His jailer is doing everything she can to keep him concealed," said Carl. "But it is worrisome with the current family's sudden interest with the West Wing."
"Maggie no longer remembers you," Josette informed him. "And Willie knows nothing of you, either. I believe it is wise you remain invisible to them. Especially to Angelique."
Carl grinned at her in gleeful mischief. "I gather you want my jokes to be very spectacular?"
"I want you to continue to protect Willie, Maggie, the family, and to make Angelique's life a living nightmare in that house."
Downstairs in the parlor, Barnabas sat on his armchair by the fire, reading a volume in the various candle glow. Julia had gone down in her laboratory to recheck some tests and numerous notes.
Even though Barnabas sensed the chilling invisible presence of his family bustling about the manor, he was otherwise content with his solitude, despite being a prisoner. At the moment, he was just glad he was not getting poked and prodded by Julia, and was catching up on his Shakespearean sonnets.
A light rapping echoed from the front doors, causing Barnabas to glance up from his reading. The rapping came again. It probably wasn't the winter wind causing that.
Barnabas got up from his armchair and set aside his volume. He peered outside his window and found, sure enough, he had a visitor.
But it was so dark, Barnabas couldn't tell who it was. He used to see perfectly in the dark when he was a full vampire, but like he told Willie and Maggie, his supernatural abilities were slowly fading.
Barnabas turned away from the window and opened the front doors in the foyer.
"Victoria." Barnabas smiled, pleasantly surprised.
He still found he loved how the syllables of her name floated out of his mouth. He fondly recalled when he told her how he loved her name when they first met.
"Hello, Barnabas," Vicki replied, garbed in a long brown winter coat with a white scarf. "May I come in?"
"Yes, of course." Barnabas invited her in, and shut the front doors. "May I take your coat?"
"No, thank you," Vicki declined. "It's really drafty in here. I think I'll leave it on."
The draftiness of the house hadn't went unnoticed by Barnabas. There was a time that the cold had no harmful effect on him. Now, however, Barnabas felt the cold all the time, both from the weather, and from this haunted house.
"Well, I suppose that is the drastic disadvantage of this house being so old," Barnabas conceded. "Let's come in to the fire."
Barnabas escorted Vicki into the parlor, where he was relieved that she really didn't pay much attention to the bloodstain on the middle of the floor where Willie and Maggie staked him. He joined her on the floor by the fire, where they sat across from each other.
"You are looking very well, Barnabas," Vicki complemented. "I'm glad Dr. Hoffman has been taking such good care of you."
"Yes," Barnabas said demurely. "I am pleased that I am able to spend Christmas with the family at Collinwood."
"Yes, Roger is so excited about the party," Vicki exclaimed. "And so are Carolyn and I. But Mrs. Stoddard is not quite as enthused, I'm afraid. She and Roger have had heated arguments about it. But I hope she will come around on the idea soon."
"How have you been, Vicki?" Barnabas raised a questioning eyebrow.
"I feel more wonderful than I ever felt in my entire life." Vicki smiled brightly. "When I first came here, I was an orphan leaving a foundling home to search for my parents. Now, I don't think that is so important anymore."
"You don't?" Barnabas frowned.
"No, the Collinses have become a family for me." Vicki smiled brightly again. "In spite of their dysfunctional nature at times. Now that I'm marrying Burke, I'm starting a family of my own."
Barnabas slightly averted his dark gaze when Vicki mentioned her fiancé's name.
"He has been so sweet and understanding over David's needs," Vicki continued. "And I'm so excited over our plans for the West Wing! That whole entire area feels like stepping into a time capsule."
Barnabas gazed up at her again, and saw how her soft face glowed in the light of the fire.
"You really love the past, don't you, Vicki?" he said.
"Oh, yes." Vicki nodded.
Barnabas smiled. Why can't the other young women of this day and age be more like Vicki?
"For the first time in my life, I feel I really belong, Barnabas. I am intending to enjoy Christmas this year, which will be another first."
"I'm sincerely happy that my family is making you feel so warmly welcome, Vicki," said Barnabas.
"I hope you'll be able to tell me more about the Collins family history," said Vicki. "You seem to know more about it than those old tomes in the study."
"I'll be delighted to." Barnabas nodded courteously.
"Is it all right if I ask you a question?" said Vicki.
"By all means."
"That night of the storm in Collinwood, when you were telling Carolyn and I the story of a woman's suicide on Widows Hill, and how vividly you described it like you were there."
"Yes," Barnabas remembered.
"I was wondering," said Vicki. "Was it Josette?"
Barnabas gaped at her.
"Well, was it?" Vicki prodded gently.
"You clearly know the answer to that question," Barnabas responded in awe.
"Really? It was Josette?"
"Yes." Barnabas nodded.
"Do you know who was chasing after her that night?" Vicki queried. "Was it Jeremiah Collins?"
"No," Barnabas answered evasively. "It was her lover."
"But the family history strongly indicated that Josette and Jeremiah were deeply in love," said Vicki.
Barnabas averted his gaze again. It greatly saddened him that the family history fabricated the story of Josette and Jeremiah's marriage, while his and Josette's own love went unwritten. Those old books practically described Barnabas as some insignificant shadow that merely set sail to England. But Barnabas heavily knew why his father had to rewrite history, and the reason was the dark-haired woman strolling around the main house. But Vicki can't know the truth. How should he explain this to her?
"I presumed this lover was a servant," Barnabas invented.
"How did they meet?" asked Vicki.
Barnabas blissfully remembered strolling the beaches of Martinique one hot and sunny afternoon when he saw her emerging from the waves of the sparkling blue sea. She was completely soaked in white pantaloons with a matching tight corset clinging provocatively to her wet voluptuous body. Her long curly brown hair draped around her shoulders in a massive wet mess. When the two crossed paths on the beach, Barnabas didn't knew who she was. He eyed her critically. The girl merely grinned at him with shiny brown eyes.
"Bonjour, Monsieur," she said cheerily.
"Bonjour, Mademoiselle," Barnabas replied in a reserved manner.
Afterward, the girl nonchalantly trudged her way off the beach.
At the time, Barnabas dismissed her as some silly French girl. Now he was refraining from smiling warmly at the memory, because Vicki was waiting patiently for him to feed her more falsehoods for an untrue story.
"He met her in Martinique," Barnabas said to her. "When he was accompanying Jeremiah Collins."
"You really believe Josette was having an affair with this servant?" Vicki questioned Barnabas.
"That is what the servant's journals strongly indicated," said Barnabas. "He was very specific in them."
Barnabas then flashed to his first official meeting with Josette when Count André du Pres formally introduced them in the family library. That time, Josette was more impeccably dressed in a Parisian blue and white striped dress. Her long brown locks were groomed that time, and she was more poised, ladylike, and charming. Barnabas certainly recognized her from the beach, and had no idea she was the Count's daughter. He felt a little embarrassed for dismissing her as some silly French girl from before. Josette didn't display any of the blasé attitude she exhibited on the beach. But she didn't speak a word of English, though. It was Barnabas' great privilege when he was assigned to tutor her in his language. Luckily, Josette was a quick learner, and that time with her was the happiest in Barnabas' life.
"Do you believe Josette was in love with this servant just like he was in love with her?" Vicki's question interrupted Barnabas' happy reverie.
He blinked. Before he could respond, the front doors creaked wide open in the foyer. It was like a ghost had opened them, but a ghost hadn't wander into the manor. Burke Devlin stepped up to the parlor's entrance.
"Oh, there you are, Vicki," he said.
Vicki smiled and got up from the floor, while Barnabas dropped his sullen gaze. It was hard looking at Burke. Why did his face have to resemble Jeremiah's? The vampire secretly swore one of the invisible ghosts invited him in.
Vicki happily embraced her fiancé in the parlor's entrance.
"Carolyn told me you came over here," Burke exclaimed.
"I wanted to make Barnabas feel more welcome," said Vicki, as she gazed up at him in his arms.
"We were merely discussing the past," Barnabas filled in, as he got up from the floor and joined the couple. "We were pleasantly indulging in our favorite topic of Josette Collins."
"Oh." Burke nodded simply.
Barnabas found that irksome.
"I thought we should go over some paint colors and fabric details for the West Wing," Burke said to Vicki.
"All right," Vicki agreed.
This caused Barnabas to drop his gaze again. He was still deeply troubled by the reports of the West Wing. What was being desperately hidden over there?
"I must say I like that Maggie is going to be working at Collinwood," Burke admitted to Vicki.
Barnabas gazed up at him.
"Pardon me, but what was that?"
"Maggie has applied to be the second maid at Collinwood," Vicki informed the vampire. "It is nice of her to lend a helping hand, but I think she's solely doing this to be close to Willie. But she won't admit it."
"Nonsense," Burke disagreed. "Maggie never struck me as being the boy-crazy type. Carolyn, yes, and speaking from personal experience. I'm still carrying the scars from that. But Maggie does not fit in that category."
"Quite right." Barnabas nodded.
"We better be heading back, Vicki," said Burke.
"Very well." Vicki glanced at Barnabas. "Good night."
"Good night, Vicki," Barnabas replied.
As the couple moved into the foyer, Vicki spotted an item sitting on a small table by the rickety staircase. She came up to it and picked it up.
"Barnabas, what is this?"
"That, my dear, is a music box belonging to Josette," Barnabas proclaimed.
"Really?" Vicki's eyes widened. "Josette Collins?"
"Yes, why don't you open it," Barnabas encouraged her.
Vicki slid open the lid, and tingling music poured right out of it.
"It still plays," Vicki said impressed.
"Yes, after all these years," Barnabas said distantly.
Vicki shut the lid and silenced the melody. "Oh, I wish I had something like this to go along with the West Wing."
"Then you should have it," Barnabas insisted. "It is yours."
"What?" Vicki's eyes widened.
"I know you love old beautiful things," said Barnabas. "And I know you love Josette Collins. Consider it a Christmas present."
"Oh, Barnabas, thank you." Vicki gave him a gracious hug. "I want you to know I will really cherish this."
"I know you will."
As Vicki let go of him and gazed down on the music box, Barnabas looked at her with obvious affection.
"That is really nice of you, Barnabas," Burke said a little curtly.
But neither Barnabas or Vicki noticed his hidden objection.
"Thank you, Barnabas," Vicki said just as graciously as before.
"You are very welcome," said Barnabas.
He watched the couple exit the Old House, and once they were gone, Barnabas sensed a presence he knew intimately well.
"Bonjour Monsieur."
At the sound of her voice, Barnabas turned his gaze into the parlor and found Josette's ghost smiling brightly at him. Her form was strongly corporeal, with a soft shimmering glow shrouding around her. To Barnabas, she was absolutely radiant.
"I know what is on your mind, Barnabas," Josette said knowingly.
Barnabas grinned and stepped into the parlor. He was right back to remembering his and Josette's first encounter on that beach. A meeting that no one else knew about. It was a private moment belonging to them and them alone. With extra eyes and ears patrolling this Old House, the two dead lovers decided to refrain from giving further voice to that memory.
"Hello, Josette," Barnabas replied warmly.
"I see you are quite taken with Ms. Winters," Josette observed. "You have given her my music box."
Barnabas looked at her apologetically.
"Not that I need it to play my song." The tingling melody of her music began floating serenely in the air.
Barnabas made his way to his armchair and sat by the warm fire.
"She is the one person who actually makes me feel that this experiment is worth enduring," he exclaimed. "She reminds me very much of you."
"I've never had the opportunity to give birth to a child," Josette murmured sadly. "But I think Ms. Winters has somehow inherited many of my qualities. I always felt connected to her."
Josette recalled how she and the ghosts of Bill Malloy and the widows came to Vicki's aid when she was being held captive by the deranged Matthew Morgan in this very house. No matter what time or year, something horrible always seemed to creep up on this house.
"It is very daunting being around the family in this century at times," Barnabas said suddenly, as he leaned back against his armchair. "Elizabeth and Roger looks so much like my own mother and father. And all the other people in this town bearing physical attributes to people I used to know very well, but are not those people at all. Even Dr. Hoffman."
"Yes," Josette agreed.
Even she couldn't believe the striking resemblance between the doctor and her dear aunt when they first met outside the Old House.
"In fact, I am quite surprised that no one with my face is living his own life among this sea of strangers," said Barnabas. "Vicki is the only one with her own fresh identity."
"Everyone has their own fresh identity, Barnabas," Josette insisted. "Even the ones with familiar faces."
"I wish I was able to die along with everyone else like I was supposed to," Barnabas said lamentably.
"I want you to live and die in the way you should have," Josette said softly. "I want you to die with dignity."
Willie and Maggie's trip back to the Evans cottage was sharply conflicted. They both still had no idea why they were at the Old House, and why they had no recollection of ever going over there in the first place.
Maggie was also suspicious of Julia's behavior during that whole fuzzy ordeal. But she also developed a powerful new resolve to get rid of Angelique. And this sudden new spell certainly hit Willie. He was all set to steal that portrait for Barnabas tomorrow.
But Maggie could tell that Willie knew something was amiss by what had happened at the Old House, but he was too afraid to question it. And in some ways, Maggie was, too. But she couldn't help but wonder if she suddenly forgot something. Something about Josette.
When they returned to the Evans cottage, Willie and Maggie found a Christmas wreath hung on the front door. Sam seemed to have spent the day putting up Christmas lights and some festive decorations around the cottage. Willie and Maggie arrived just in time to help Sam put up the ornaments on the Christmas tree, where a little angel was perched up on top.
This chore was really fun and relaxing for Maggie after such a strange and confusing day.
During dinner, Maggie gently broke the news to Sam that she had quit her job at the Collinsport Inn in favor of working at Collinwood as a maid for the time being.
Sam, naturally, had objections to this, but with Maggie's strong determination to get rid of Angelique, Sam knew it would be pointless to even attempt to talk his daughter out of it.
All the while, Willie informed Maggie and Sam that Burke had hired a crew to help renovate the West Wing. A crew Willie would be in charge of. Clearly, Willie had never been a boss to other people before, and he seemed unsure how to feel about that. Given the life he'd led with Jason McGuire, and how he renovated some of the Old House by himself under Barnabas' willful control, Willie had no idea how to give out orders or to be in control with other people. He was beginning to worry over the schedule Burke laid out for him, and where to keep all the tools. And neither Willie or Maggie knew who would be in this crew, but Willie mentioned some guy taking care of a kid would be among them. He was apparently the Collins family new handyman.
Around nine o'clock, Maggie and Sam nestled on the couch in their warm house robes, while Willie absentmindedly washed the dishes in the kitchen. Doing chores for no reason became a quirk of Willie's since he moved into the Evans cottage. Out of the blue, he would unexpectedly vacuum the floor, wash the windows, or dust the furniture. He would even stop Sam whenever he tried to do something simple or mundane and do it for him. This caused Sam to remark to Maggie that she brought home a strange bug-eyed house ghoul.
Maggie supposed that was part of what Barnabas turned Willie into; a servant through and through.
But with Willie busy in the kitchen, Maggie was offered some quality alone time with her pop. They both admired their pretty Christmas tree from the couch, lit up in red, green, and gold colors.
"It has been a hell of a year." Sam sighed, causing Maggie to turn her gaze away from the tree and on her grizzled father. "I am really glad you are safe back home."
"I am too, pop." Maggie affectionately put her hand inside one of his, and he gave hers a gentle tight squeeze.
"I believe things will be good for us once Collinwood is settled," she said. "And Barnabas is taken care of."
"I hope so." Sam gave her hand another gentle squeeze. "But please forgive me for being a little worried over your new job, what with a witch wandering around there, harming and cursing people."
"I'll be okay, pop," Maggie tried to assure him. "Josette gave us something that will protect me and Willie from the witch."
Maggie thought of the golden talisman Josette gave her. Willie currently possessed it, having given it to him in the phone booth at the Inn.
"That's nice to know," Sam muttered. "I hope it will work."
"You know, the more I think about it, the more I grow a little convince that working at Collinwood can't be entirely bad," said Maggie. "I mean, yes, it's still a very spooky place, and I have no desire to live in it, but at least Willie, Vicki, and Burke will be there."
"You all should look out for each other," Sam persisted. "And how is Vicki? It's been a while since I've last seen her."
"I can honestly say she is the happiest I've ever seen her, pop," Maggie answered happily. "I caught her looking at bridal magazines in her room this afternoon."
For some reason, Maggie remembered that part of the day, but not much of what happened afterward. It was almost like not remembering going to the Old House. She decided not to reveal this to Sam. He was worried about her enough as it is.
"Are you happy for her?" Sam asked his daughter, referring to Vicki.
"Yes," Maggie answered, perplexed by that odd question.
"Does it give you ideas to follow her lead?" Sam raised his brows.
Maggie scoffed.
"Oh, pop, I don't even want to think about marriage right now. You know how I feel, and how it makes me think of that whole nightmare with Barnabas."
"Maggie." Sam looked at her softly. "Those years I've spent with your mother were the happiest in my life."
He shifted his gaze toward the portrait he created of his deceased wife. It was placed on one of his easels in the back corner of the room. Maggie silently stared at the portrait from the couch. She knew from her earliest memories that Sam's statement were true. Her time with her mother when she was a little girl may have been tragically brief, but it was a blessed time. Both for her and Sam. Some time after her passing, life became more hectic. It was around then that Sam took his first drink.
"And mind you I didn't proposed to her," Sam told Maggie pointedly.
"Yes, I know." Maggie chuckled softly. "She asked you."
It was by far her most favorite story about her parents.
"Yes." Sam lowered his gaze on his lap where their joined hands sat. He gave her hand another gentle squeeze.
"I want you to have that happiness, Maggie," he said. "I don't care with who as long as he makes you happy. I want you to experience what I had with your mother."
"Oh, pop." Maggie gave him a warm hug.
As Maggie got ready for bed that night, her mind, for whatever reason, wander into a place that seemed familiar, but she'd never been to personally. A place that was dark, haunted, with chilling vintage music looming the air like a phantom.
Maggie didn't know why her mind kept wandering to that place, but she vaguely knew she had been there in a dream.
The West Wing was heavily shrouded in miserable darkness as the ghost of past Collinwood maidservant, Beth Chavez, sat on the dusty flagstone floor in the haunted corridor. Her back leaned against the forbidden paneled wall, with her legs curled up beneath her, which allowed her long frilly white ghost gown to draped elegantly around her.
She barely registered the curtain of falling snow outside the filthy stained-glass window. She was keeping tight guard.
Behind the paneled wall, Beth's prisoner was in a rather jaunty mood, in spite of his confinement. There had been much excitement in the West Wing, something that hadn't been felt since that fateful day it was closed off.
Living souls were expressing a heavy interest to make this area come to life again, something that hadn't went unnoticed by Beth's prisoner.
But this was the last thing Beth wanted. She had been guarding this wall for the past seventy years without any complication. Why did that had to changed now?
But Beth's prisoner was jubilant. He finally got to sense living souls coming near to his domain, especially the little boy, who was most intriguing.
Beth was incredibly alarmed by that. Her prisoner thought the boy was someone he was not, but her prisoner was not much for being rational or even logical. He was in such good spirits, he played his haunting melody loudly for all the corridor to hear.
His voice echoed lowly behind the wall, talking directly to Beth. He spoke both smoothly and seductively of the words he used to serenade Beth and countless other women. The words that seemed to go along with his dreary song.
"Shadows of the night, Falling silently, Echo of the past, Calling you to me, Haunting memory, Veiled in misty glow, Phantom melody, Playing soft and low, In this world that we know now, Life is here... then gone, But somewhere in the afterglow, Love lives on and on, Dreams of long ago, Meet in rendezvous, Shadows of the night, Calling me to you... Calling me to you."
At the sound of his voice, Beth squeezed shut her eyes, deeply hoping that no living soul would ever wander down this corridor again. Especially that little boy.
Outside in the darkened cold, Barnabas strolled the grounds of Collinwood in his black cloak with his silver wolf-head cane in hand. The estate was lit up in gold lights hung from the tall trees and bushes. It was a beautiful and unique sight that Barnabas was not accustomed to. Some beloved tradition that was completely foreign to him. The golden lights helped him see through the curtain of snow.
He hated to admit it, even inwardly to himself, but the winter cold was affecting him badly. The cold was no longer something he was impervious to. Nor was he any longer nourished from it. He was starting to remember what it felt like to be a human man trailing in the unbearable freezing cold. He was not for certain how he should feel about that. He hadn't been a man in so long.
Up ahead, Barnabas spotted the snowy gazebo. Like much of the estate, it was lit up in golden lights. But, Barnabas also spotted a figure standing alone in the gazebo admiring the lights and the falling snow.
The person was wearing a heavy red winter coat with a hood covering the head. Barnabas could tell it was a woman, and as he drew closer, he found it was the woman who had caused him all of his tragic misfortune.
Cassandra gazed at him surprised with her ever blue eyes as Barnabas stepped into the gazebo with her.
"Hello, Barnabas," Cassandra said sweetly. "I knew it will be inevitable for us to meet again. Isn't this a beautiful night? Roger and I went on a sleigh ride..."
"Enough with the ridiculous farce," Barnabas cut her off sharply, glaring darkly. "I know who you really are."
Cassandra sighed.
"Yes, I suppose you do."
"Why have you come back?!" Barnabas demanded.
"I'm living my own life, Barnabas," Cassandra sniped. "Surely I have a right to that."
"Why have you come back here and into my life?!" Barnabas spat.
"You are not supposed to be here, Barnabas, any more than I am," Cassandra said icily. "You are supposed to be locked up in your coffin, wallowing in your curse."
"A curse you placed on me!" Barnabas hissed heatedly.
"Don't even pretend you are an innocent man," Cassandra shot at him. "You were flawed long before you ever crossed my path. It was something I heavily sensed when I first met you. And lest we forget you met me before Josette. You were the one that romanced me, and made love to me! You stole my heart and then shattered it when you started romancing my mistress."
"I have never caused any harm to you and your family," Barnabas countered. "Therein lies the difference."
"Nothing can excuse what you did to me!" Cassandra retaliated. "You deserved that punishment! Furthermore, I am not the sole purpose for your family's suffering, Barnabas. They were cursed long before you ruined my life!"
Cassandra angrily stormed out of the gazebo, leaving him alone.
Barnabas watched her go, both doubtful and puzzled over her strong claim. He couldn't decide if there was any truth in it.
Next Chapter: The Portrait Caper