Disclaimer: Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis Production and not mine
CHAPTER 7: THE PORTRAIT CAPER
A crisp, foggy, gray morning clouded around Collinsport. Over at the Evans cottage, Sam sat rubbing his throbbing forehead on the couch, while Willie busied himself being a bug-eyed house ghoul.
He was fixing a loose leg on a stool that Sam often used to sit and paint on his canvases. Willie tapped lightly on the stool leg with his hammer. The persistent tapping was every bit as unpleasant to Sam as a rusty nail being jammed into his skull.
What was even more irritating was the mere fact that there was absolutely no reason for Willie to be doing this. He just got done shoveling the snow off the drive and the entire front of the cottage. The minor stool leg was not even that big of a necessity. Sam wondered how Willie could've possibly mustered up all the energy to perform all these chores. He decided to put an end to this stool leg nonsense.
"Willie, please, stop that," the artist implored him, his eyes wincing in irritation.
"I-I'll b-be done in t-the minute, Mr. Evans," Willie replied distractedly.
Sam rolled his eyes as Willie continued his annoying tapping.
"Considering you've been going steady with my daughter for quite some time now," Sam drawled, "I think it's time for you to drop the Mr. Evans bit."
Finishing the stool leg, Willie glanced up at the couch, and asked, "Didja say somethin' Mr. Evans?"
Sam heaved a deep sigh. "I'd like for you to consider calling me Sam."
Willie set the stool up right, placed the hammer on the coffee table, and joined the disgruntled artist on the couch.
"Ya want me to call ya Sam?"
"Yes, please."
"O-Okay, Mr. Ev..., er, Sam," Willie awkwardly corrected himself.
"I see the transition will take some getting used to," Sam observed wryly.
"Didja sleep well, Mr... Sam?" Willie asked somewhat submissively.
"I got up a few of times," Sam muttered with a light shrug. "Did you sleep well, Willie?"
"Oh, yes." Willie nodded.
Sam certainly knew that for a fact. In one of his late-night ventures, Sam creaked open Maggie's bedroom door to check up on his daughter. He discovered that Willie had once again snuck into Maggie's bedroom and was sound asleep next to her in her bed. Sam seriously thought he was going to have a coronary, but he then reminded himself that Maggie told him that she and Willie did not have that kind of relationship. Sam assumed Willie must've had one of his nightmares and needed Maggie. Sam remembered how the two snuggled up close to each other in bed, as if in comfort. For some reason, a golden medallion attached to a long chain was wrapped around high on one of Maggie's bedposts.
Sam rubbed his weary eyes. How much longer could he allow Willie and Maggie's trauma induced, but growing affections to parade around his cottage with little regard for his rules?
"I-I'm sorry y-you didn't sleep well, Mr., er, Sam," Willie stammered.
"Willie, are you nervous about your new job?" Sam inquired stiffly. "You seem agitated."
"I guess I am," Willie admitted with a slight nod. "I-I'm scared I'll s-screw it up."
"You will watch over Maggie at that house, won't you?" Sam eyed him firmly.
"I won't screw that up," Willie promised him. "I won't let anythin' bad happen to her."
"You better not, Willie," Sam said seriously. "But I know you do lo..."
Maggie's bedroom door creaked wide open and Maggie herself stepped out into the living room. She wore a blue dress, with white pumps, simple makeup, and her hair draped softly around her shoulders.
"Hey, Maggie," Willie said to her in a secret smile.
"Hi, boys." Maggie flashed Willie her own secret smile.
"You two ready to head on over to the haunted house?" Sam asked them bluntly.
"I need to head over to the Inn first to settle some matters with Mr. Wells," Maggie exclaimed. "Then I'll discuss a schedule with Mrs. Stoddard while Willie works on the West Wing."
"And how does the witch snooping fit in with the schedule?" Sam queried curiously.
"I think that will be my job since I'm doing the chores around the house," said Maggie.
"Between Laura Murdoch and this lady, I say Roger can really pick them."
Sam lifted himself off the couch in a grunt and pulled his daughter into a tight hug.
"You to be careful up there," he murmured softly over her shoulder. "That estate nearly destroyed you before."
"It won't happen again," Maggie whispered to him tenderly.
She gently let go of him and gazed over at Willie on the couch.
"Willie, you got the medallion?"
Willie indicated he was wearing it under his formfitting turtleneck.
"All right, let's get going."
Willie and Maggie put on their coats. Willie grabbed his keys off the coffee table, while Maggie grabbed her purse on a small table by one of Sam's easels.
"We'll see you later, pop."
"All right," Sam said reluctantly as he watched the two make their way up to the front door.
"Bring back home a ghost and goblin for me," he called after them.
Maggie chuckled good-naturedly, and replied, "We will, pop."
When Maggie opened the front door, she stumbled into an unexpected guest who was about to knock.
"Oh, hello, Dr. Woodard."
"Hello, Maggie," Dr. Woodard replied. "Willie." He nodded. "You both heading off for work?"
"Yes, but we no longer work at the Inn," Maggie exclaimed. "Pop will fill you in, we need to go."
"Oh, don't let me keep you," said Dr. Woodard.
Willie and Maggie stepped aside him in the front doorway.
"Goodbye," Maggie said to the doctor on her way out. "Goodbye, pop."
"Goodbye, darling," Sam called after her. "Please be careful."
Once they were gone, Dr. Woodard stepped in and shut the front door behind him.
"With the way your shoulders are tensing, I gather you don't really approve of their new job," Dr. Woodard surmised.
"It's up at Collinwood," Sam said gruffly as he sat on the couch.
"They're really going to try to get rid of the witch for Barnabas Collins, then?" Dr. Woodard joined Sam on the couch.
"They feel that this will eventually free them from Barnabas," said Sam. "Have you spoken to Dr. Hoffman about this hair-brained experiment on that monster yet?"
"Julia strongly feels she has made the discovery of the century," said Dr. Woodard. "And I have to admit that is exactly correct. But curing vampirism is completely beyond my comprehension. I miss the good ol' days when I didn't know vampires and ghosts existed. Life in medicine was much simpler."
"Why did she had to seek him out!" Sam spat angrily, balling his fist tightly. "Maggie... she's having such a hard time getting on with her life. She and Willie can't properly get their relationship off the ground, and she constantly thinks about Josette. Now she has to risk her life to protect Willie, Vicki, Burke, and the Collinses."
Sam finished that last sentence really awkwardly. It was rather unnerving for his daughter to work up at Collinwood, given Sam's uncomfortable history with Roger Collins and Burke Devlin. But none of that personally affected Maggie too badly.
"Josette Collins did saved Maggie before," Dr. Woodard pointed out. "Maybe she'll continue to do so."
"Perhaps," Sam muttered. "But that doesn't mean that her father has to sit uselessly by as she put herself in more danger. She's been taking care of me for years, Dave. Do you think it's time for me to return the favor?"
Maggie sat on the springy passenger side of the junker mobile as Willie drove the disheveled vehicle through the misty fishing village.
It looked as though about five inches of snow fell the night before and the village was completely covered in it. The roads had been salted to melt the ice, and Willie's truck, and other motorist, slickly rode along. The old junker drove bumpily as usual, and the engine was making an audible groaning noise. Maggie couldn't help but fear it might break down at any moment, but Willie didn't seem to be concerned.
"Wanna cinnamon roll?" Willie asked her as he continued driving.
Maggie smiled.
Willie used to sneak her a cinnamon roll or a muffin from the bakery when Barnabas locked her in the basement cell at the Old House. Since their release, the bakery became one of their haunts.
"Oh, I would love one," Maggie said favorably. "Are you nervous about stealing that portrait?"
"Nah, I steal stuff before." Willie kept his eyes on the snowy roads.
"When you were with Jason McGuire," Maggie said next to him.
"And before him," Willie muttered, his eyes still on the road.
His eyes then became softened.
He greatly wondered what his former friend was up to, and where he was at these days. Given how reckless and greedy Jason became when his scam on Elizabeth Collins Stoddard went bust, and how he was kicked out of town in the aftermath, Willie couldn't help but wonder if he was even still alive.
"I don't want you to get caught, Willie," Maggie said worryingly. "I want you to succeed in renovating the West Wing."
"It's okay," Willie said confidently. "I gotta plan. I know how to get that portrait outta Collinwood."
"You do?"
"Yeah, I used to do this stuff," said Willie.
"Should I help you?" Maggie offered.
"I don't want you to get in any trouble," said Willie.
"If getting rid of this portrait will get rid of the witch, then ultimately Barnabas, and this whole Collins family curse, I'd do anything, even break the law," Maggie persisted. "We both should take turns wearing the medallion today."
"You should wear it when we get there," said Willie. "I'll be workin' on the West Wing, and the witch don't hang 'round there."
"Then you should wear it when you steal the portrait," said Maggie.
Willie nodded, and the two fell in companionable silence.
Maggie touched the old bite marks on her neck, and noticed Willie covered his, both on his wrist and neck, with his long turtleneck sweater.
"Do you think we will really be freed from Barnabas' will?" Maggie asked him suddenly.
"I dunno," admitted Willie as he continued driving. "Where d'you think he'll run off to when he leaves?"
"Martinique, maybe." Maggie shrugged. "I think he likes it there. It's where he met Josette."
"Maybe Josette will follow him there and haunt him like she does now," Willie said optimistically.
"It's probably where they were at their most happiest," Maggie conceded. "She can watch over him there. Have you ever been to Martinique?"
"Who, me?" Willie furrowed his brow.
"Yeah." Maggie nodded.
"Me and Jason pulled some scams there."
"Did you like it there?" Maggie asked.
"I really like it in Singapore," Willie murmured fondly. "It's my favorite place."
"Singapore?"
That was indeed a rather exotic and out of reach place for Maggie. The farthest she'd ever been was in Canada, and that was for visiting family.
"Maybe you can take me there sometime," Maggie found herself saying to him.
Willie smiled at that as he continued keeping his eyes on the road.
"Unless you're wanted by the law over there or something," Maggie quipped.
They both laughed lightly, and then fell in companionable silence again.
"Is there a place ya wanna go, Maggie?" Willie queried. "Someplace ya never even been and is far away?"
"I'm so used to living in this strange crazy town, I never really thought about it, Willie," Maggie muttered.
"Maybe ya should," Willie encouraged. "I'd be more than happy to take ya there."
"Oh, really?" Maggie grinned. "It's nice having such a worldly boyfriend."
Willie felt something fluttering inside his chest. Maggie just referred to him as her boyfriend. It sounded so nice.
The bakery and the Collinsport Inn were up ahead on the road. Time for Maggie to settle her matters, then it's off to Collinwood.
The Great House was covered in layers upon layers of snow as thick fog billowed across the top of Widows Hill. The bleak gray winter sky loom through the heavy dark clouds up above.
Inside, the Collins family gathered at the kitchen table, all dressed and prepared for their day. The family ate their breakfast of eggs, sausage, and biscuits. The aroma of breakfast and coffee pleasantly filled the senses.
Matriarch Elizabeth sat on one end of the table, while her brother Roger sat on the opposite end. Cassandra sat next to her husband, while Carolyn sat next to her. Vicki and David sat across from them, while Mrs. Johnson was busy washing the dirty sauce pans at the sink.
"I hope everyone had a good night sleep," commented Roger as he took a sip of his hot coffee.
There was some tension at the table. The subject of the Christmas party was still causing heated friction between Roger and Elizabeth. Roger had hired some caterers to set up the party in the often underused Great Hall. Pretty soon, Collinwood would be bombarded with talky, busy party planners, and between them and the construction crew working on the West Wing, the reclusive Elizabeth felt her home was being wildly invaded.
"I slept wonderfully," Cassandra filled in brightly. "But my morning shower was dreadfully harsh and ice cold. It was almost like the water came in from the sea."
"I'm sorry, my darling," said Roger. "I sincerely hope there isn't anything wrong with the plumbing or the water heater."
"I'll have Tom take a look at it," Elizabeth said assuredly.
"That's funny," Carolyn chimed in. "My morning shower was nice and piping hot."
Ignoring her, Cassandra darted her gaze across to David.
"David, how about coming along with me and your father to Collinsport this afternoon? We can go Christmas shopping."
"Gee, aunt Elizabeth was going to take me to the Inn for some ice cream today," David murmured disappointedly.
Roger gaped at his sister astounded. "Why, Liz, I didn't know you were planning another venture out of this mausoleum."
"I didn't know I needed to verify such things with you, Roger," Elizabeth snipped.
She turned her gaze to David. "You should go with your father and stepmother today, David. We'll plan our trip for another day."
David dropped his gaze on his half empty plate. He wasn't for certain how to feel about this postponed ice cream trip. He still found he didn't like how Cassandra was always looking at him.
"You haven't finished your orange juice, young man!"
David glanced up, and found Mrs. Johnson scowling down on him with a pitcher of orange juice in hand.
"Yes, you should drink that, David," Cassandra insisted across from him, causing Elizabeth to exhale heavily.
"Okay." David begrudgingly took a long gulp of his orange juice, and Mrs. Johnson poured him another glass.
"Say thank you to Mrs. Johnson, David," said Elizabeth.
"Thank you."
Vicki gave her charge a soft small smile next to him.
"Would you like some more coffee, Mrs. Stoddard?" asked Mrs. Johnson.
"Yes, please.
As everyone continued eating their meal, David felt something tugging on the leg of his trousers. He glanced down, and found Sarah sitting on her knees on the tiled floor from under the table in front of his feet. She grinned up at him.
"Hello, David."
"Hi, Sarah," David whispered in a small wave.
This caused Vicki to glance up from her breakfast. "Did you say something, David?"
"I'm only saying hi to Sarah," David exclaimed simply. "She's under the table."
"Oh, really?" Vicki took a quick peek under the table, but didn't spot any little girl. Just people's feet.
"Oh, please give up this silly ghost charade, David," Roger grumbled.
"You're going to be spending quality time with your son, today," Elizabeth sternly scolded her brother. "I think it is unneeded and unnecessary for you to criticize him over something you know he'll outgrow over time. You yourself went through this phase when you were his age, and you used to cry over the ghosts."
"Yes, but that was so long ago." Roger scoffed dismissively. "I just want to have a nice normal day. Is that too much to ask?"
"I think you will have a normal day as long as you properly reach out to David," said Elizabeth.
Roger had no heated retort to that.
Deciding to turn the breakfast chatter into something more pleasant, Elizabeth suggested, "I think we should invite Barnabas over for dinner tonight."
"Yes, that's a marvelous idea," Vicki agreed.
"Oh, I concurred," Cassandra mused.
Elizabeth thought her new sister-in-law sounded oddly eager with the idea.
"Barnabas told me so himself that he's looking forward to spending Christmas with the family," said Vicki.
"Then we should make him feel heartily welcome," said Roger. "I suppose we should also invite that Dr. Hoffman. She can watch over him in case he falls ill again."
"Oh, I'm afraid I won't be able to be here for dinner," Vicki said apologetically. "Burke is taking me out tonight."
"That's fine, Vicki," Elizabeth assured her. "You and Burke have a wonderful time."
"All right, Mrs. Stoddard."
Vicki slowly dropped her gaze. She supposed Mrs. Stoddard wouldn't be too offended by her missing out on the family dinner. This was an evening for the Collins clan after all. Something she wasn't really a part of.
Not that they're making me feel unwelcome, Vicki thought to herself.
Roger shifted his gaze toward Carolyn. "Kitten, will you be able to join in on tonight's festivities?"
"I believe so," said Carolyn. "Tom told me yesterday he was planning his own family dinner with Joe and Amy at the cottage."
"Then it's all settled," Roger said satisfied.
After breakfast, the Collinses filed out of the kitchen, leaving Mrs. Johnson to wash even more dishes. Cassandra observed the newly fresh snow through the window pane by the table, surrounded by towering house plants.
"It's really beautiful outside," Cassandra said dreamily to Mrs. Johnson, her back turned on the maid.
"Try saying that while driving in it," Mrs. Johnson huffed as she scrubbed a plate. She was distracted by all the dirty dishes. "It's always so chaotic this time of year."
Absentmindedly, Cassandra slid her gaze and saw a phantom skeleton in a white gown and veil sat cross-legged on top of the table where Cassandra sat at breakfast. It made a bone chilling deranged cackle that echoed deeply. Cassandra slightly started in a glare, but in a flash, the skeletal bride vanished like it was never even there.
"My good-for-nothing son better send me a card soon," Mrs. Johnson griped, as she continued scrubbing the dishes in the soapy sink. "After all the running around I did for him, one wouldn't think that mailing a simple card would be an impossible task!"
Cassandra wasn't listening. Her eyes were still on the now empty table. Josette couldn't possibly be toying with her. Cassandra banished her from this house. She swore she did.
Upstairs in the West Wing, the ghost of Carl fussily paced about by some dusty columns in one of the dark corridors, while the ever wispy ghost of Millicent watched while fiddling with one of her blonde ringlets. She sat lazily on the spiral steps which would soon lead up to Burke and Vicki's bedroom. Dreary gray light streamed in from the windows, bathing the corridor with even more gloomy atmosphere.
"I'm tired of that French Countess preaching on and on over the importance of Jeremiah Collins," Carl sniped frustratingly. "Does she think I am incapable of protecting my own family, in spite of them being a bunch of humorless bores?!"
"Cousin Jeremiah is one of the most terrifying phantoms in the history of our family," Millicent shot at him affronted, as she continued fiddling with her hair. "You should really respect our legends."
"But he is not the only Collins phantom who is truly terrifying," Carl spat as he continued to pace, causing the tails of his coat to flap behind him. "My dear grandmamma was as wretched as it comes."
"Has she ever frightened a witch?" Millicent challenged with a raised eyebrow.
"No, but she frightened him," said Carl. "And to me, she is a hero."
"Perhaps." Millicent got up and floated down the spiral stairs. "But I shan't stay here and listen to you tarnish my good cousin's name any longer!"
Millicent swiftly disappeared down the corridor, leaving Carl befuddled. Millicent seemed to be an awfully sensitive sort. Carl was glad he didn't know her in life. He was associated with enough stuffy Collinses as far as he was concerned.
He spotted a white veiled figure floating through a nearby corridor shrouded in a shimmering white glow.
"Down here," Carl called down to the figure.
The figure spotted him at once, and instantly floated down to him with the white glow illuminating the corridor. It was a ghost of a woman in a white gown with a long transparent veil. She wore a face that was completely identifiable with two other women; one Carl was deeply associated with, and the other whom he had recently met. But this was a woman he knew in life.
"Have you let yourself be known to the witch?" Carl prompted the ghost.
"She saw me in skeleton form in this gown and veil," the ghost reported.
"Oh, bless you, Rachel!" Carl clapped his hands together pleased with a little giddy bounce. "I deeply thank you with all my heart."
"Yes," the ghost of Rachel Drummond responded unsurely.
She was the governess to Carl's niece and nephew when he was living in the Great House.
"I honestly don't know why I allowed you to persuade me to take part in this macabre joke," said Rachel.
"For the good of the Collins family." Carl grinned mischievously. "And I was present at your funeral. That's got to mean something."
"Yes, but I was so content in my rest. I was finally with my mother and father... and Tim." Rachel softly gazed down to the dusty floor.
Carl gently placed a hand on her shoulder, and said, "You may rest now, Rachel. You played out your part."
"I don't think the joke inflicted the desired effect, Carl," Rachel exclaimed. "When the witch spotted me, she wasn't frightened at all. On the contrary, she was very angry. I don't believe I ever had anyone look at me with such hatred."
"It is a desirable response," Carl insisted. "She is a witch, after all. I don't believe they frighten easily. And you, Rachel, resembled someone the witch hates."
"I'm quite surprise your fiancée isn't helping you with this," said Rachel.
"Oh, my Pansy," Carl said with great yearning, pressing his hand to his chest. "I'm trying to persuade the family to allow her to haunt here. They don't approve because she was a showgirl. But my Pansy was no harlot, Rachel! She was a brilliant mentalist. She could actually read minds! She read mine when we first met."
"I hope the family does welcome her, Carl," Rachel said kindly. "I saw the little boy who lives here. He looks so much like Jamison. I couldn't believe my eyes! That surely must've broken poor Beth's heart."
"Yes," Carl murmured pensively, lowering his gaze. "I greatly wonder why nothing changes around here."
Around nine o'clock, Vicki and Carolyn lounged on the couch in the drawing room, sipping their morning coffee. Vicki was preparing herself for her morning lessons with David, while Carolyn admired the beautiful snow outside the window, and the warm crackling fire in the fireplace. It was such a lovely and quaint New England winter scene.
"It seems dearest mother isn't going to warm up to uncle Roger's new bride anytime soon," Carolyn remarked with a sip of her coffee.
"It certainly isn't helping his relationship with Mrs. Stoddard, said Vicki. "Carolyn, do you think there's something not right about this marriage? We never actually took the time to properly discuss it."
"Well, of course I do, Vicki." Carolyn shrugged. "It happened very suddenly, and uncle Roger acts like he's under some sort of spell."
"I'm glad I'm not the only one who noticed." Vicki sipped her coffee.
"We're all noticing, Vicki," said Carolyn. "It's very spooky. It's almost like my mother and Jason McGuire all over again. What is with all these strangers trespassing here and worming unwantedly into our home?"
"I just hope David will be alright in all of this," said Vicki.
"And I hope uncle Roger's heart won't be too broken when Cassandra inevitably shatters it," said Carolyn. "I got a feeling mother will get rid of her eventually. She's been keeping to herself."
"Yes, I know." Vicki was completely unnerved by the distance between the people in this house lately. Something that sadly developed since Roger brought home his impromptu bride.
A rapping came from the front double doors in the foyer.
"Oh, it must be some of the people to make this house less gloomy," Carolyn said lightly with a grin.
"Let's see," said Vicki.
The governess and the heiress placed their coffee mugs on the coffee table and got off the couch. They strolled into the foyer. Vicki flung open the doors and was greeted by the sight of her fiancé elated to see her, garbed in a long black coat with a matching scarf. Another man stood next to Burke out in the frigid cold. He wore a heavy coat, boots, gloves, and a red wool cap.
"Good morning, Vicki," Burke said happily, as the governess pulled him into a tight hug.
Burke's coat and his embrace were freezing cold, but Vicki didn't care. "Good morning, Burke."
"Good morning, Tom," Carolyn welcomed the other man.
"Good morning, Carolyn," replied Tom Jennings with his breath misting the thin air.
He was the Collinses new handyman and was hired by Roger the week before.
"Jennings had such a trying morning shoveling off all the snow and frost throughout the estate," said Burke.
"And I had to drive Amy to school," Tom added, gritting his teeth through the sharp cold.
"Well, come on in and warm up," Carolyn invited. "Let me take you to the kitchen and have Mrs. Johnson pour you some coffee. Or she could make you some hot chocolate if you'd rather have that."
"I think I could use a little of both." Tom stomped the snow off his boots and gladly stepped into the warm mansion. He followed Carolyn into the kitchen, leaving Burke and Vicki alone in the freezing open front entrance.
"Why don't you put on your coat and join me outside," Burke eagerly suggested.
"What for?" Vicki lifted a thin eyebrow. "Do you want to come inside and warm up?"
"I will." Burke nodded. "It's just a very beautiful winter morning and I want to enjoy that with you before I supervise the work in the West Wing."
"All right."
Slightly suspicious, Vicki put on her coat and joined her fiancé out in the morning winter chill.
The grounds and the forest trees were capped in pure white snow, with some fog billowing faintly through the forest. To Vicki, it was utterly picturesque. Just like a picture on a postcard. The icy salt breeze blew through the crisp trees. Vicki furthered bundled herself up in her coat to shield herself from the chill.
"I got a surprise for you," Burke said to her, his breath misting the air.
"You do?" Vicki lifted a curious brow.
"Yes."
Burke reached inside the pocket of his coat and retrieved out a small jewelry box. Vicki gasped. This was a very small jewelry box. Vicki knew it could only contain one significant thing inside, something that wasn't a necklace or a bracelet. Burke handed it over to her.
"Open it."
Slowly and gingerly, Vicki slid open the lid and found a tiny silver diamond ring inside. The little caret gleamed in the glow of the white snow. Vicki thought it was beautiful. And also simple. So simple, a man of Burke's power and prestige would likely pass this little ring by at the jewelers in favor of a much larger and extravagant rock.
"It belonged to my mother," Burke exclaimed softly.
Vicki gazed up at him in deep surprise.
"It was given to me when I was sixteen," Burke explained. "My mother didn't have a daughter to pass it down, and I was told to give it to the woman I love. It's really a family heirloom. I'd like for you to have it, Vicki."
"Oh, Burke."
Vicki wrapped her arms tightly around him, and he eagerly returned her embrace. The ring in the jewelry box was still within her grasped and she gazed down at it from over Burke's shoulder.
"I love it," Vicki said, her voice clogged in deep emotion. "I'll cherish it always."
The two released each other, and Burke slid the ring on Vicki's finger. Vicki admired the tiny diamond gleaming on her finger and gave Burke a gentle kiss. They then heard the engine of a beat up truck echoing up the drive.
"Willie and Maggie are here," Vicki whispered.
The two watched the dirty white truck park, and Vicki hid away the small jewelry box in one of the deep pockets of her winter coat. The couple watched Willie and Maggie step out of the truck and trudged their way through the snow hand-in-hand.
"Well, hello kids," Maggie said teasingly, as she and Willie approached them. "You two look awfully happy this morning. Excited about the West Wing?"
"Yes," said Burke. "And you two look a little cozy there yourself. Holding hands like a bunch of high schoolers."
"It's icy, and I don't want Maggie to slip," Willie said rationally.
"Very chivalrous of you, Willie," said Burke.
"Look what Burke gave me." Vicki extended her hand to show off her engagement ring. "It belonged to Burke's mother."
"Oh, that's sweet." Maggie smiled brightly. "And something meaningful from the past. You sure know what your lady likes, Burke."
"That, and I always thought it was a beautiful ring." Burke grinned.
"Can we go inside?" Willie asked. "I wanna get Maggie outta the cold."
"And even more chivalry from Willie Loomis," Burke mused.
"Let's all come inside," Vicki agreed.
Willie and Maggie wiped the snow off their shoes, and entered the Great House's foyer. Vicki and Burke shut the doors, and took off their coats.
"Burke and I are going to the Blue Whale tonight," Vicki said, as she and Burke hung up their coats on the coat rack by the front doors. "We'd like for you two to join us."
"Is there somethin' 'bout the West Wing ya wanna talk 'bout?" Willie asked, as he subtly helped Maggie slip out of her coat.
"Yes, we could discuss the West Wing," Burke conceded as he hung up his scarf. "But it might be more enjoyable if we don't discuss work at all and indulged ourselves in a bit of fun."
Willie and Maggie were a little taken aback. They'd never been on a double date before. They usually enjoyed their evenings together alone, or with Sam. But Vicki was Maggie's friend, and she did feel comfortable being around her.
"We're not doing anything special with pop tonight," Maggie murmured to Willie.
Before Willie could respond, Burke said, "Splendid! We'll meet up there around eight o'clock or so to give you two some time to wash up and change."
"Okay, Burke," Willie muttered lowly, as though he was following a direct order.
He was highly uncertain how he should feel about this.
Tom Jennings emerged from the back kitchen with a steaming hot coffee mug cupped in his hands. He was still in his coat, gloves, and wool cap. He joined the group in the foyer.
"Hello, Tom," Maggie said, surprised.
"Hello, Maggie," Tom replied. "It's good seeing you again. And back home safely."
"Yes, I'm very fortunate that Willie and pop rescued me," Maggie said meekly.
"Oh, Loomis was the one who rescued you?" Tom frowned.
"Yes," said Burke, "he and Maggie have been... close for a while now."
"Oh." Tom nodded thoughtfully.
"Ya know him, Maggie?" Willie whispered to her silently as he shrugged off his coat.
"Yes, he's Joe's cousin," Maggie exclaimed quietly.
Willie felt like a bucket of ice water violently splashed on him. He quietly hung his and Maggie's coat up on the coat rack.
"I'd better go tutor David," Vicki said as she headed up the staircase and left the foyer.
"I'll stay down here and wait for the rest of the crew to arrive," Burke told Willie and Tom. "You both can wait upstairs if you wish."
Willie nodded.
"I need to head down to the basement real quick," Tom informed Burke. "Mrs. Stoddard wants me to check out the water heater."
"Very well." Burke headed for the drawing room.
Willie took Maggie's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"I'll see ya later, Maggie."
"Sure thing, Willie." Maggie tenderly patted his hand on top of hers.
As Willie slowly ascended up the staircase, he overheard Maggie telling Tom Jennings down in the foyer, "Tom, I want you to know that me and Joe's breakup was not his fault. Ever since my kidnapping, I've changed as a person."
"Joe told me all about that," Tom assured her. "He's coping, Maggie. He'll be fine."
"Yes, I know he will," Maggie murmured.
"I'm glad you're all right," Tom told her sincerely.
Overhearing that, Willie felt a little relieved. Maybe working with Haskell's cousin wouldn't be so bad after all.
As he reached the door on the second story, Willie felt piercing black eyes burning down the back of his neck. A faint thumping of an unnatural heartbeat pounded inside his head. The portrait hung down below by the front doors was watching him. Willie squeezed shut his eyes. He will not fail Barnabas on his mission.
As he creeped down the corridors, Willie thought they were not quite as haunting as the corridors in the West Wing, but not by much. All the doors were tightly closed, as though they were closely guarding something on the other side. Willie knew his way down these corridors pretty well. He lived in Collinwood for a time when he first came to town, and he just passed by the door that opened into his old bedroom.
As he turned to enter another corridor, Willie spotted that one of the bedroom doors were wide open. When he stepped up to it, he peek inside, and his heart crashed down to the floor.
The portrait he was planning to steal was placed on an easel inside the bedroom. A beautiful handcrafted easel with decorative wooden patterns that Sam Evans couldn't possibly afford. Roger came storming up to the door from within the bedroom, adjusting his tie, and scowling at Willie.
"What are you doing lurking about?"
"I-I'm not, Mr. Collins," Willie responded a little jumpy. "I'm headin' for the West Wing. I-I got w-work to do t-there."
"Then get right on it!" Roger bit off.
Willie sprinted his way to the West Wing as fast as he could. Evidently, Vicki's portrait was now in Roger Collins' possession. This complicates things. Willie thought this was going to be a relatively easy heist. All he had to do was snatch the portrait from that West Wing storage area where Vicki first showed it to him and Maggie. It was a completely deserted area. Now it seemed Willie had to break into Roger's bedroom in order to steal it. No matter, Willie broke into people's bedrooms to rob them before. Willie just hoped the portrait didn't have some magic spell protecting it.
When he reached the West Wing, Willie did some structural measurements on the shabby spiral staircase leading up to Burke and Vicki's bedroom. Due to his exquisite job renovating Josette's bedroom, Willie figured renovating Burke and Vicki's master suite would be a comfortable fit for him. He'd have Tom Jennings concentrate on the lounge.
"Hi, Willie."
Startled, Willie whirled around, and found David had crept up on him.
"David, what are you doin' 'round here? Willie sneered. "This will be a construction zone soon, and you could get hurt sneakin' 'round."
"It's not a construction zone yet, Willie," David countered.
Willie noticed David was holding an antique telephone. He likely found it amidst all the junk harboring this area.
Clanking footsteps echoed their way, and Vicki came hurrying down to them.
"David, I've looked everywhere for you!" she said crossly. "You know it's time for your lessons."
"I'm just checking if Sarah is up here," David exclaimed innocently.
"You saw Sarah under the table at breakfast this morning," Vicki sternly reminded him.
"Yeah, but she comes up here, too," said David. "As well as other ghosts. But I don't know how I feel about them. I don't think they're nice like Sarah and Josette."
"Well, it's not nice to bother Willie when he's trying to work," Vicki chided. "I'm sorry about that, Willie."
"Hey, Vicki." Willie halted her as she tried to politely leave with David. "Why does Mr. Collins have your portrait in his room?"
"Oh, you must have noticed it there," said Vicki. "Roger insisted in holding it for me until the West Wing is finished. There is definitely something about that painting. He's just as drawn to it as I am."
Willie was filled with a sense of tremendous dread. It seemed likely that portrait did have dark magic protecting it.
"Can I keep this phone?" David indicated the antique device to his governess.
"Yes, David," Vicki replied steadily.
Once they were gone, Willie had the distinct feeling that ghosts were haunting the West Wing. But he couldn't spot any. There was something about this place that seemed unsettling. It felt like something powerful and dangerous was stalking around. Something that seemed vaguely familiar, but Willie didn't know how he recognized it. He deeply felt there was something he had somehow forgotten about.
But he managed to work comfortably throughout the morning. Once the crew arrived, Willie worked on the staircase and got that properly structured, sanded, and polished within two hours. Two other men helped him out with that, which felt strange for Willie, because he wasn't used receiving help in these sort of things.
Tom Jennings was assigned to work on the lounge where Willie wanted him. Burke closely supervised the twelve men crew working on various parts of the Wing, doing some demolition and tearing up the rotted floors. Burke himself occasionally joined in on the process in spite of wearing one of his pricey business suits.
Willie did some supervising of the crew as well, and he was overwhelmed and flabbergasted over the speedy process of the demolition. It wasn't like that when he worked at the Old House. He studied some blueprints before he and two others did some demolition in the master bedroom. By lunch time, Willie was sweaty, dirty, and covered in debris. He managed to slightly clean himself up to meet up with Maggie down in the foyer.
She spent the remainder of her morning clarifying some things with Elizabeth, and being put to immediate work. She helped put up some Christmas decorations throughout the Great House with the ever chatty Mrs. Johnson.
The caterers Roger had hired also arrived, and they were bustling throughout the entire bottom floor to make preparations in the Great Hall for the upcoming Christmas party. The presence of these people prompted Elizabeth to shut herself away in the study so she wouldn't be disturbed. And in return, the unusually crowded and noisy Collinwood prompted Willie and Maggie to spend their lunch hour elsewhere.
They drove to the Inn, and on the usual bumpy ride there in the junker mobile, Willie informed Maggie about the new whereabouts of Angelique's portrait.
"It's in Roger's bedroom?" Maggie said displeased.
"Yeah," Willie muttered. "Vicki said he's drawn to it like she is. Maybe even more so 'cause he's the witch's husband."
"Then the portrait must really have some supernatural power like Barnabas and Josette's," Maggie said thoughtfully. "Can you get it out of the bedroom?"
"I have no choice," Willie murmured softly. "Barnabas told me to get it."
When they got to the Inn, they were greeted by their former boss, Mr. Wells, and one of Maggie's waitressing friends, Suzy, who served them the burgers and coffee they ordered at the diner.
During lunch, Maggie grumpily told Willie that putting up Christmas decorations in Collinwood was excruciatingly tiring and not very fun. Even though it seemed pretty mundane, it actually was hard work because Collinwood was an extensive place to put up decorations, which the Collinses had a high collection of, and it felt never ending. Furthermore, Mrs. Johnson was very precise about where Elizabeth wanted everything to go and how it should be put up. It wasn't carefree and enjoyably like at the Evans cottage. And Maggie was thoroughly impressed that Mrs. Johnson could go on talking as much as she did without taking breaks to simply breathe.
After lunch, they trooped right over to Collinwood. As Willie got back to the West Wing, Maggie was given new duties to put up even more Christmas decorations. But at least this time she could do something simple alone. She wrapped some gold garland on the banister of the staircase in the foyer.
Cassandra came scampering from the door on the second story landing, and encountered Maggie by the top of the staircase.
"Oh, hello," Cassandra said politely. "I'm sorry, I know we have met, but I happen to forgot your name."
Maggie felt a warm glowing sensation coming from her chest. The medallion hung around her neck and hidden inside the top of her dress was reacting to Cassandra abruptly, as if in a warning.
Cassandra stared at Maggie closely. Maggie was instantly reminded of the cold taunting eyes that the disembodied phantom head threw at Barnabas on Maggie's last night of imprisonment. The same eyes this dark-haired woman possessed.
"I'm Maggie Evans," she exclaimed, still unnerved by those blue eyes.
"Oh, that's right." Cassandra smiled sweetly. "You work here now?"
"Yes," Maggie answered.
"Oh, how interesting." Cassandra stared at Maggie closely again, but then caught herself. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare. You just look so much like someone I used to know."
Before Maggie could reply, Roger stepped out of that door from the second story, and encountered his wife.
"I have no idea where David has run off to," he complained. "Vicki finished giving his lessons an hour ago so we can have our outing."
Downstairs, David came bursting in through the front doors, dressed in his winter coat, boots, and gloves.
"David, where have you been?" Roger called down to him. He sternly descended down the staircase with his wife following closely behind him. "Have you forgotten we are going out with your stepmother?"
Maggie watched them silently from up the landing.
"No, father," David said in a small voice with a nervous shake of his head. "I was just building a snowman with Sarah and Josette."
"What?!" Cassandra gasped softly, gazing down at him narrowly.
Maggie grew alarmed from up the landing. The medallion got warmer from under her dress, and she was worried how Cassandra was reacting to this.
"Why were you playing outside?" Roger demanded at David. "We're planning a special outing."
"Yes, but I can only see Josette outside now," David exclaimed.
He then looked up at Cassandra and quickly averted his gaze from her. Cassandra stared at the boy closely.
"Oh, David." Roger scoffed.
"Why can't Josette see you inside?" Cassandra inquired David calmly.
"I don't know." David didn't look at her again.
"I'm sure it doesn't matter," Roger told Cassandra. "Josette is one of David's ghost friends who also happens to be one of our ancestors. Just like Sarah. Now that he is found, we all should be getting ready to leave."
As Roger and Cassandra put on their coats, Maggie overheard Cassandra commenting to David that she would very much like to see his snowman. Then the three were out the door.
The medallion began to cool on Maggie's skin, but her heart was racing in an irregular pace. Why couldn't Josette see David in Collinwood? How could Josette possibly protect the people in this house if she couldn't even come inside?
Maggie gazed down into the foyer and spotted a white wispy form floating into the room. A figure who must be Josette because she wore a long flowing white gown and veil, but strangely she wasn't carrying her potent jasmine scent or tingling music with her.
She observed the gold garland decorating up the staircase banister. "Even when it's covered in pretty things, this house is still dark and miserable."
"Josette," Maggie called down to the ghost. "Why can't you see David inside? You are inside Collinwood! Is the witch preventing you from talking to David inside somehow?"
But the ghost instantly vanished when a knock sounded off at the front doors. Sighing in frustration, Maggie hurried down the staircase to answer it.
"Pop? What are you doing here?"
"Hello." Sam grinned widely at her in his coat and fedora hat. "May I come in?"
"Of course." Maggie invited him in and shut the doors.
"Are Burke and Vicki here?" Sam asked, as he stepped further into the deserted foyer.
"I think they're upstairs somewhere," Maggie answered. "Why?"
"I'm going to offer to do their wedding portrait," Sam informed her.
"Wedding portrait?" Maggie tilted her head, bemused.
"Yeah, do you think they'll like the idea?"
"I think they might." Maggie shrugged.
"Good," Sam said reassuringly.
"But I also think that's not the main reason you're here," Maggie said pointedly. "You're checking up on me."
"Well, what's so wrong with that?" Sam said defensively.
"Nothing," said Maggie. "I just don't want you to get hurt is all."
"And I don't want you to get hurt, either," Sam countered seriously.
"I'll be fine," Maggie insisted. "It'll all be over soon."
"Are you certain?" Sam gazed at her narrowly.
"Yes." Maggie nodded.
She thought of how that portrait was just within Willie's reach. And Cassandra was now out of the mansion.
"Burke and Vicki are busy with the West Wing at the moment," Maggie told Sam. "You should offer that wedding portrait idea to them later."
"Now you're trying to get rid of me," Sam said accusingly.
"I'll be okay, pop," said Maggie. "And Willie and I will be at the Blue Whale tonight. Burke and Vicki invited us on a double date it seems."
"Oh." Sam sounded like he approved.
"Will you be all right tonight?" Maggie asked him.
"Yes, you and Willie have a good time," said Sam. "It's not often that you two go off to do normal things with other young people."
He reluctantly stepped up to the front doors.
"Be careful."
"I will."
Maggie watched him go.
She decided to head to the study to check on Elizabeth. She was still avoiding Roger's caterers, who were busy doing whatever they were doing in the Great Hall. When Maggie reached the shut door of the study, she lightly rapped on it and poked her head into the room.
Her matronly employer sat at the oak desk, going through some business papers in her reading glasses.
The study was very much like the drawing room, in that it had elaborate paneled walls, European windows, and a burning fireplace. But it also contained large bookcases, which made the room feel smaller.
"Is there anything you need, Mrs. Stoddard?" Maggie asked from the open doorway.
"Yes, could you please put away all those books left on the floor?" Elizabeth answered, her back turned toward Maggie, and her eyes firmly on the business papers. "I believe David was flipping through them early this morning before breakfast."
Maggie gazed down at a collection of books messily scattered on the floor in front of the fireplace. "All right."
Maggie stepped into the room and bent over to collect the books. The titles on the covers indicated they were history books about the Collins family, dating as far back to the town's founder Isaac Collins from the very beginnings of America's existence.
After putting a handful of books away on one of the bookcases, Maggie bent over to collect more books when she spotted one of the them laying wide open on the rug. It displayed an old print photograph on one of its pages. It was a photo of a young man. A nicely dressed man with sleek hair who looked very much like Willie. Maggie picked up the book to study the photo closely. She felt she somehow knew this man, but he couldn't possibly be Willie. That would be absurd.
An echo of a bouncy old song began ringing through her vague memories.
I wanna dance with you... ... Wanna dance your cares away...
Maggie spotted a caption under the photo: Carl Collins.
"Mrs. Stoddard, may I borrow this book for just a minute?" Maggie asked behind her.
"Certainly." Elizabeth still had her gaze on her business papers.
"I'll be right back."
Maggie rushed her way out of the study, and hurried over to the West Wing. The area was a disaster. Much of the walls have been taken down, and there was dust and debris clinging on to everything. There was much pounding and banging going on from the crew. Maggie resisted the urged to sneeze as she went through the dusty and torn down corridors.
While racing through, Maggie was hit with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu, but was into much of a hurry to fully dwell on it. Passing her way through the construction zone, Maggie found Willie in an empty room going over some faded blueprints.
"Willie, take a look at this." Maggie showed him the photo in the book. "He looks just like you."
"Wha?" Willie stared deeply into the photo.
"It says his name is Carl Collins," said Maggie.
She spotted more inscriptions under the photo. "Carl Collins; brother of Edward, Judith, and Quentin Collins," Maggie read aloud. She flipped through some pages. "Is that all it has on him? Hmm. I wonder if he was some dashing gentleman of leisure. Look how he's dressed."
Willie snorted and snapped the book shut. He glanced at the title on the cover: The Collins Family of the 19th Century.
"You don't hafta be rich and fancy to be a big shot," Willie said indignantly. "Jason taught me that."
"Do you think it might be possible that you are a Collins?" Maggie furrowed her brow.
"Nah, my family is a bunch of Poles from Brooklyn," Willie muttered. "And they don't drink blood."
"Willie," Maggie whispered urgently. "Roger and his wife are out of the house. It's likely no one is guarding that room."
With that subtle information, Maggie slipped off the anti-witch medallion and handed it over to Willie. She then grabbed the book from him, and quietly exit the room.
Once she was gone, Willie quickly slipped on and hid the medallion under his dusty turtleneck.
With the construction crew distracted with the ongoing demolition, and Burke preoccupied elsewhere, Willie snuck out of the West Wing.
He creaked up to Roger Collins' shut bedroom door. Making sure the corridor was deserted, Willie turned the knob and hurriedly and clumsily made his way into the bedroom. He hastily shut the door tight and leaned against it.
Across from him the devilish portrait sat on its elegant polished easel wrapped in an expensive wooden frame. The golden-haired woman in the portrait and the bold vibrant colors surrounding her were even more vivid than Willie initially remembered when he first saw it. Her cold blue eyes were every bit as searing as Barnabas' soulless dark ones in his portraits.
Willie gulped.
At least the witch's portrait wasn't causing a morbid heartbeat to pound in his head. Willie slowly made his way to the portrait and began the preparations to peel it out of its frame.
A few hours had passed, and it was gradually getting darker outside. The exhausting and pounding work began to slowly ceased in the West Wing, and Roger Collins' hired caterers finally departed the Great House.
All the noisy ruckus forced Millicent to retreat to the dark, desolate, and lonely East Wing, where she had haunted all day. Dust and cobwebs shrouded the area, and Millicent grieved that the West Wing could no longer be as beautiful as this anymore. But that was not the only thing making her dead heart ache.
Floating down the blissfully quiet and shadowy corridors, voices from the night before plagued her.
After informing Josette of the witch casting her wicked spell on Mr. Haskell, Ben Stokes and the Countess du Pres ushered the delicate ghost woman to her cousin Joshua and her dear brother Daniel to console her. Both men were deeply troubled by Millicent revealing herself to this living young man.
He is under powerful black magic, and you are but a fragile spirit who is not very powerful, Daniel had argued. He is likely frightened enough as it is. You're help will likely terrify him more, dear sister.
But cousin Joshua had a completely different reaction.
I have seen this man, and I believe you are drawn to him for his resemblance to Lt. Forbes, he said gruffly. He is likely as much of a louse as that lecherous swine. Keep away from him, Millicent.
The curly blonde ghost couldn't muster up the courage to put in a rebuttal. She deeply knew Mr. Haskell was nothing like Nathan Forbes. Millicent felt it. He was becoming an unwilling pawn to the witch, and Millicent strongly felt a good man like him didn't deserve that fate. Millicent didn't fancy him, but she wished she knew how to help him.
Josette managed to make cousin Barnabas' servant boy Willie Loomis into a somewhat servant of her own.
Millicent paused. Wait. That was it.
"I shall make him my servant!" Millicent decided gleefully. "I shall order him to take me to New York to keep him away from the witch!"
The sound of a vehicle from outside had Millicent peering through one of the filthy European windows. She spotted Mr. Haskell in one of those loud obnoxious contraptions that the living frequently used as a means of transportation. It made Millicent think of them as some sort of queer carriage coach but without horses pulling them.
The sight of Mr. Haskell made Millicent giddy.
She shall pursue her new servant at once. But when she was about to dematerialized from the East Wing, one of her plaguing voices quickly halted her.
You are but a fragile spirit who is not very powerful.
This forced Millicent to acknowledge her faint incorporeal form. But she was not discourage.
"I shall not appear myself as fragile, darling Daniel!"
Down in the foyer, the front doors of Collinwood flew wide open. Joe, accompanied by a small red-haired little girl in a heavy blue coat, quietly entered the mansion.
The little girl was his young cousin Amy Jennings.
She tentatively stared around the foyer as Joe shut the front doors. This was the first time Amy had ever stepped foot inside this big house. She only marveled at it from afar when she and her brother Tom moved into the small cabin on the estate the week before. Amy still couldn't believe her big brother actually worked at a place like this.
"It looks like the Collinses are getting ready for Christmas." Joe observed the gold garland wrapped delicately around the banister on the staircase.
Amy didn't respond to him. This would be her first Christmas since the tragic death of her parents in a senseless car wreck. That happened eight months prior, but for Tom and Amy, it felt like years.
Tom emerged from the door on the top upstairs landing, dirty from his day of construction. Carolyn followed closely after him.
"Tom!" Amy ran up to the bottom step, and Tom affectionately took her small hand in his once he reached down to her.
"Hello, kiddo. Have a good day at school?"
"It was all right, I guess." Amy shrugged. "Are you off work?"
"Yes, Mr. Devlin and Mr. Loomis just let me off."
Joe averted his steely gaze at that. It was mind-boggling to him that Tom was actually working for Willie Loomis of all people. It was also mind-boggling that Burke and Vicki actually hired Willie.
"You should get washed up and ready for our dinner with Joe tonight," Amy told Tom, sounding very motherly.
"Yes, ma'am." Tom grinned. "Thanks for picking her up from school, Joe."
"No problem," Joe replied helpfully.
"Bye, Joe, bye, Carolyn." Amy dragged her big brother to the front doors, where he put on his coat and wool cap.
"Bye, Amy." Joe and Carolyn waved after her.
When Amy opened the front doors, she and Tom stumbled into Roger, Cassandra, and David. The three just returned from their outing.
"Oh, Jennings," said Roger. "Taking your young sister home?"
"Yes, Mr. Collins," Tom replied.
"Have you checked the water heater?" Cassandra asked the handyman. "My morning shower was horrible."
"Yes, Mrs. Collins, and I cannot find anything wrong with it," answered Tom.
"Hi," David said to Amy.
"Hi," Amy returned a little shyly.
"Well, call if you need anything Mr. Collins," said Tom.
"I will, Jennings."
Roger watched the handyman and the little girl leave as he entered his home along with his wife and son. He shut the doors behind them.
"Hi, Joe," David said cheerily.
"Hi, David." Joe watched the boy leave the foyer and headed into the kitchen.
"Hello, Haskell," Roger said formally. "Are things running smoothly at the cannery?"
"Yes, Mr. Collins," Joe said assuredly.
"Hello, Joe." Cassandra smiled at him as she slipped off her coat. "Nice seeing you again."
"Same to you, Mrs. Collins," said Joe.
"Did the family outing go as well as you hoped?" Carolyn asked her uncle.
"We didn't do much in the way of bonding." Roger sighed as he took off his coat. "The roads were absolutely hectic. We hardly went anywhere."
"Oh, I'm sorry, uncle Roger," Carolyn said sympathetically.
"We'll just have to plan something special with David another day," Cassandra said to her husband.
Roger gently took his wife's hand. "If you'll excuse us, we're a little tired."
Roger and Cassandra wearily climbed up the staircase, leaving Carolyn to grab Joe's hand and drag him into the drawing room. The fireplace mantel was now decorated with shiny silver garland, and the mantel itself, along with much of the tables and shelves, had little cutesy ornaments of Santa Clauses, reindeer, snowmen, and elves on display. Joe and Carolyn sat on the couch as the cozy fire continued flickering in the fireplace.
"So, did you have a good day?" Joe asked Carolyn.
"There's been a lot of bustling going around between the West Wing renovations, and the caterers setting up uncle Roger's Christmas party in the Great Hall," said Carolyn. "But I'm still looking forward to the party. We've never had anything like that in all my short years growing up in this dreary castle."
"Yeah, I know." Joe gazed down on his lap. "I suppose you want me to come?"
Carolyn looked at him uncertainly. "Do you even want to?"
Joe glanced up at her. "Yes, I would love to come. I know this is special."
"Joe," began Carolyn, "we both suffered through some major hardship and trying times recently." She lowered her gaze guiltily. "As you know, I deeply regret how I treated you when I was childishly chasing after Burke."
Joe felt a little stung by that reminder. He was surprised he was still even reacting to it that way.
"He's no longer an issue." Carolyn returned her gaze back to him. "I am very happy for him and Vicki."
"Yeah." Joe sighed heavily. "I am, too."
"There's also that ordeal you suffered through with Maggie," Carolyn went on. "I mean, I don't even want to bring it up because I know it hurts, but ever since we started spending a lot of time together again, I know it isn't the same as when we were dating before."
"Carolyn, I enjoy spending time with you," Joe said earnestly. "You helped me get through one of the most awful times in my life."
"Did I?" Carolyn gave him a skeptical look. "Did I really?"
"Yes," Joe said softly. "But I want us to take our time. Between Burke, Maggie, and that biker guy of yours, it would be pretty reckless for us to rush into anything."
"Yes," Carolyn agreed. "Look at my uncle Roger and his new bride. I can't help but feel nothing good will come out of that."
Joe tried to conceal his confliction. It was both puzzling and unnerving listening to Carolyn speaking of Cassandra Collins in such a negative manner.
Up in one of the second story corridors, Roger and Cassandra slowly creaked their way down hand-in-hand. Roger's eyes were droopy and filled with fatigue. He was exhausted by the winter traffic and the disappointment of the outing.
"I was really hoping you'd properly bond with David today," Roger said tiredly.
"He still needs time to get used to me," Cassandra said understandingly. "Him and the rest of the family."
"I hope they get used to you soon," said Roger. "After all, we got important plans for this house."
The two reached their bedroom door and Roger swung it wide open. His heart dropped and his jaw fell once they came inside. An empty picture frame sat on the elegant handcrafted easel.
"The portrait!" Cassandra gasped. "It's gone!"
Roger frantically searched the bedroom, but found no trace of the portrait.
"This is a catastrophe!" he said in distress. "We were going to hang it above the mantel piece in the drawing room once you became the house mistress."
"You better find it!" Cassandra commanded panically.
Several footsteps came from out the corridor. Some of the construction crew from the West Wing were done with their labor for the day. Burke and Vicki were gaining up the rear with the crew, discussing something with Willie, who was carrying a duffel bag.
"Oh, Vicki." Roger stopped the governess in her tracks, along with Burke and Willie. The rest of the crew gladly continued on their way. "I am terribly sorry for this, but I have lost your portrait."
"What?" Vicki's eyes widened.
"I'm afraid someone actually took it from its frame," Roger said hysterically.
"Oh, no," Vicki said mortified, looking at the empty picture frame at the doorway.
"Will you help me find it, Burke?" Roger desperately pleaded.
"Yes, Roger," Burke said calmly. "Just let me walk the construction crew out."
"No, we should stop and interrogate them!" Roger demanded heatedly. "They could've stolen it!"
"I don't think so, Roger," Vicki disagreed calmly. "They been busy working all day. You may want to start in David's room. I wouldn't put it past him taking it."
Roger sharply locked his gaze on Willie's duffel bag. "What do you have in there, Loomis?"
"Just blueprints, Mr. Collins." Willie shrugged.
Roger roughly and rudely snatched the bag from Willie's grip and unzipped it open.
"Hey!" Willie glared at him.
Roger pulled out all the rolled up blueprints.
"Look, Willie had nothing to do with your missing portrait, Roger," Burke interjected.
Roger fumingly shoved the bag and the blueprints back to Willie.
"It wasn't all that long ago when this man would happily rob this family blind!" Roger snapped, pointing a sharp finger at Willie. "I caught him lurking outside my bedroom door this morning!"
"I wasn't doin' anythin'," Willie drawled. "I swear!"
Cassandra closely eyed him. Willie felt the medallion growing warm and alert from under his turtleneck, as if in response. Cassandra silently turned her gaze away from him.
"We'll find it, Roger." Burke placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "And please calm down. Willie is clearly not involved with your missing portrait."
As the group filed out of the corridor, Cassandra remained behind in the bedroom. She stepped up to the empty picture frame with her arms tightly crossed over her chest.
"I'm afraid getting rid of me won't be so easy, Barnabas."
Down in the drawing room, Joe and Carolyn still sat on the couch keeping each other company.
"Carolyn, I feel for the first time we're finally on the same wave-length," said Joe.
"Yes." Carolyn smiled brightly. "I surely hope we're finally getting older and less naïve this time."
"Are you really done with the bikers and men like Burke Devlin?" Joe pressed.
"I think so." Carolyn nodded.
Joe smiled.
"I've been thinking," he said. "We should go over to the Old House and see how your cousin Barnabas is doing. I figure he's been through a rough patch as well. So maybe a visit with some friendly folks might do him some good."
Carolyn giggled lightly into her hands.
"So, how about it?" Joe said eagerly.
Carolyn giggled more uncontrollably, and she glanced up at Joe with a strange glassy look in her eyes.
"Carolyn, what's so funn... Carolyn?"
"My family will never allow you in the Old House," "Carolyn" giggled teasingly. "They know you are the witch's servant."
"What?" Joe looked at her shocked.
"You only want to visit cousin Barnabas so you can learn of his treatments and relay the information to your wicked mistress," "Carolyn" said knowingly. "My family will never allow you into our home. I'm afraid they distrust you, my dear."
Carolyn gasped violently and her eyes bulged dangerously. Joe was absolutely terrified. She recklessly laid her head on his lap.
"Joe," she murmured frighteningly, grasping painfully to his thigh. "Something is wrong."
"What is it, Carolyn?" Joe said frantically. "How can I help you?"
"Carolyn" burst out in fits of giggles again and sat up roughly. Her giggles were very girlish. So girlish, Joe dreadfully realized he had heard them before.
"No matter, we shan't trouble the Old House with your presence," the thing possessing Carolyn said airily.
The thing Joe grimly realized was the same apparition he met in the tower room.
"I wish to go to New York."
"What?" Joe frowned at her.
"I wish to go to New York," the haunting phantom reiterated patiently. "It was where I came from before my family became cursed. But I always felt my family was cursed even before that witch entered our lives. My brother and I lost our dear momma and poppa when we were so young. They were killed in a carriage accident. But happily now, tragedy shall no longer reach me. Please take me to my home city, Mr. Haskell."
"No!" Joe shot at her furiously. "I want you to get out of Carolyn!"
"But as my servant, you will live the life deprived of heartbreak from the witch," the phantom argued logically.
A cruel masculine laughter sliced through the air like a sharp blade. Joe started. The phantom sharing his face sat cockily on the armchair by the fire. He wore his flashy blue Navy uniform.
"Tell me, is this the sort of man you aspired to be?" he shot at Joe mockingly. "The sort who fetch and carry for women? Sailor, I admire your eyes for the ladies, but can you honestly look at yourself and refer to yourself as a man?"
"You go away, Nathan Forbes!" the phantom possessing Carolyn screamed vehemently.
"You harbor no power over him, Millicent," Nathan said condescendingly. "You can't possibly save him from the witch."
"Get out of here, both of you!" Joe bellowed at them with wide angry eyes.
At that, "Carolyn" fainted on the couch, and this Nathan Forbes suddenly vanished. The drawing room's double doors burst wide open, and Elizabeth and Maggie frantically rushed in.
"Carolyn!" Elizabeth cried.
She ran over and knelt beside her unconscious daughter. Joe guiltily hovered near her.
"Joe, what happened?" Maggie questioned him calmly. "Mrs. Stoddard and I heard yelling and screaming in here."
"I... I don't know," Joe told her shakily. "She... she had some kind of fit and fainted."
"And what were you yelling at?" asked Maggie. "Mrs. Stoddard and I heard you, too."
"What happened?" Vicki burst into the drawing room along with Roger.
Burke and Willie were out in the foyer walking out the rest of the crew.
"Carolyn had some sort of fit," Elizabeth exclaimed breathlessly.
"Carolyn." Roger's voice was barely above a whisper.
His eyes became misty. He instinctively went to his brandy collection, and retrieved a bottle to wave the potent alcohol scent under his niece's nose. Carolyn slowly blinked open her eyes. To Joe's tremendous relief, her eyes were no longer glassy.
"Kitten," Roger breathed, setting aside the brandy. "Kitten, are you alright?"
"What happened?" Carolyn said weakly.
"You had a fit and fainted," Joe answered her.
"What's going on in here?" Burke came into the room along with Willie. They had just finished with the crew.
"Carolyn had a fit and fainted," Maggie informed them.
"Should I bring Barnabas' doctor over here?" Burke suggested.
"Yes, please bring Dr. Hoffman over," urged Elizabeth.
"I'll come with you," Joe said to Burke.
The two men hurried into Burke's car and drove to the Old House.
As Burke went to knock on the double front doors, Joe found he couldn't come anywhere near the peeling white front porch covered in snow. It was like he was somehow being held at bay. Burke frowned at him from the front doors.
"Is there something the matter, Joe?"
"I don't know," Joe answered confused. "I can't seem to make myself go near this place."
An icy breeze tickled Joe's ears, and he heard a secret feminine voice whisper softly, "I told you."
Julia answered the doors, and Burke quickly filled her in on Carolyn's emergency. After Julia grabbed her coat and medical bag, the two men immediately took her to Collinwood.
Julia examined the weak young woman on the couch in the drawing room, with Joe, Burke, Vicki, Roger, and Elizabeth standing concernedly throughout the room.
"Will she be alright, Dr. Hoffman?" Joe asked worryingly.
Julia checked Carolyn's pulse, and listened to her heartbeat with her stethoscope.
"I don't detect anything wrong with her vital signs," said Julia. "Nor do I detect any signs of a seizure. I think she could do with some rest. I'm going to offer a sedative."
"Oh, I don't think that's necessary, doctor," Carolyn declined hastily.
"Are you sure?" Julia raised her brows.
"Yeah, I'll be alright." Carolyn slowly sat up on the couch. "It was like something went inside me. Something sharp and cold wanting to take control of my body."
Willie and Maggie listened out of the room's open doors in the foyer. They looked at each other. They knew perfectly well the symptoms Carolyn just described. Josette and Jeremiah possessed their bodies when Barnabas held Maggie captive at the Old House. They still had no recollection of what the ghosts did to them.
The medallion inside Willie's turtleneck grew warm and alert again. He and Maggie glanced up, and saw Cassandra scurrying down the staircase. She ignored them, and went straight into the drawing room. With her back turned, Willie quickly handed Maggie the medallion, and silently put on his coat and left Maggie behind in Collinwood, carrying the duffel bag as he went. Maggie sincerely hoped the witch's portrait would be destroyed.
In the drawing room, Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest as everyone fret over Carolyn.
"I'm so relieved you are alright, kitten," Roger said affectionately, tenderly holding Carolyn's hand.
It seemed to Cassandra that her husband had forgotten the massive severity of their missing portrait for the time being.
"It's a shame you won't be joining us for dinner," Roger said to his niece. "Mrs. Johnson has already started cooking it."
"Oh, that reminds me." Elizabeth gazed down at Julia by the couch. "You and Barnabas are invited to tonight's dinner if you'd both care to join us. I think it will be good for Barnabas."
"Yes, I agree." Julia tucked away her stethoscope into her medical bag. "I will inform him at once."
Joe silently gazed at Cassandra. He became mesmerized by her icy blue eyes. He somehow knew she wished to see him in the privacy of the tower room soon.
The winter night was about to veil the Old House when Willie quickly reached his abandoned prison tightly gripping the duffel bag.
The front double doors flung wide open in welcome through the ghostly breeze, and Willie dashed his way inside. The doors then shut themselves close when Willie crossed the threshold.
Much of the candles had been lit in the parlor, and the ghost of Ben Stokes was stoking the flames in the fireplace. That was a strange sight for Willie; a ghost doing his old chores.
The ghost of Josette floated by her portrait in the air with her music and jasmine perfume floating invisibly around her. She smiled warmly when Willie scampered into the drafty parlor.
"Hello, Willie. Have you acquired the portrait?"
"Yes, ma'am." Willie sat the duffel bag on Barnabas' armchair by the fireplace. He reached into the back pocket of his dusty jeans, and pulled out the folded up portrait. "Here ya are."
"Oh, Willie, thank you," Josette said graciously.
Willie unfolded it for her. The witch's icy blue eyes in the now wrinkled up portrait glared at them spitefully.
"Oh, cent'uries may have pass, but she is sti'll the most foul crea'ture 'his ea'rth h'as ev'er kno'wn," Ben spoke up soberly by the fireplace.
"You are correct, Ben." Barnabas stood at the parlor's entrance, having just awoken with the cold winter night. "Give me the portrait, Willie."
"Here ya are, Barnabas."
Willie handed the portrait over to the vampire. Barnabas carried it over to the rolled-up desk by the entrance of the parlor, and opened up one of the drawers. He grabbed out a letter opener, and glared hatefully at the portrait in his hands. He then intensely sliced the portrait with the letter opener and shred it into little pieces with a wild dark look in his eyes.
Willie became frightened by those eyes. His former master looked like a deranged animal.
Barnabas then moved to the fireplace and dropped the shredded pieces into the bright red flames.
"Burn!" Barnabas commanded the flames in a deep dark voice. "Burn! Burn!"
As the destroyed pieces burned in the fire, a cruel mocking laughter sliced through the air. A cruel laughter of a woman. Willie's stomach flipped. The last time he heard that laughter in this room, Angelique's disembodied head tormented Barnabas. But no surreal head popped out of thin air.
The laughter escalated more powerfully, and the burned and destroyed pieces of the portrait faded in the fireplace in a puff of supernatural smoke.
"Oh, tha' woman is the devil, Mr. Barnabas!" Ben cried out through the wild and mad laughter.
In Roger and Cassandra's bedroom at Collinwood, the witch's portrait materialized unharmed in its frame. There was no evidence that it had been sliced or burned. There wasn't even a wrinkle. The colors were just as vibrant as ever, and it was safe on its easel.
Next Chapter: The Double Courtings