Chapter 4

Her spirits sinking as David's absence lengthened, Hallie took herself out of doors for a break in the woods. She had found Julia and Willie at the Old House, and the party had encountered her uncle Elliot making his way toward Collinwood, so all had come together, calling worriedly for David as they walked.

Now everyone was up in the east wing room, stamping on floors, tapping on walls, running downstairs to the basement, trying to figure out where David was and whether he was stuck somewhere behind a wall. Blinded by tears, Hallie had left the others to go wash her face, but then in the bathroom she had been overcome with a strong urge to be alone. Outside. She dried her face, blew her nose, and left the house.

All of this was her own stupid fault. All right, so David was headstrong—she was the older one, she should have stopped him no matter what! Made him swear to keep clear of the dumbwaiters, instead of just standing there looking at him with her finger in her mouth. Or—she should have gone immediately to Elizabeth Stoddard and told her—told her—

Hallie stopped walking and leaned her back dejectedly against the trunk of a tree. Told Mrs. Stoddard what? Hallie wasn't an overmastering person. She couldn't prevent David doing whatever he set his mind to. She could hardly have tied him up in his room! Hallie couldn't see herself stalking off to tell Roger Collins or Mrs. Stoddard on David for any reason, unless he was proposing to do something utterly dire. And anyway, he had gone and pulled this stunt while she was sound asleep! While this consideration should have exonerated her of any feelings of guilt to a great degree, it only made her feel worse.

Hallie pushed up from the tree trunk and slowly ambled on. She stepped through the shaded glade, headed for the sun. Ahead was a lovely cleared space, a meadow of sorts, practically blazing in the bright sun. She loved the cool of the forest, but just now she wanted to be in the sunshine. Narrowing her eyes against the glare of the light, she glanced over the clearing and was surprised to see that someone else had found their way into the sunshine ahead of her.

She couldn't think of who it could be, since practically everyone she knew was in the house searching for David. Then she recognized the curve of a shoulder, and the plait of curling hair, and saw that it was Angelique.

Hallie hesitated, but Angelique, seated on a fallen tree, turned her eyes and saw her. They stared at one another for a moment, and then Angelique looked away.

Hallie strode up to her, then paused, uncertain.

Once more, Angelique cast her large eyes at Hallie. Then she gave a faint smile. "Come, sit down," she invited the girl in a hushed voice.

Hallie drew near and sat, gazing on Angelique.

"I haven't seen you," Hallie began. "What is wrong?"

Angelique stared dully before her. She took her time before answering.

Her hair was swept up, as usual, but in loose Grecian style, in a lovely knot at the back of her head that released cascading waves to her shoulders. Hallie stared at the knot of hair, trying to figure out how she could replicate it this evening in her bedroom before the mirror, with her own hair.

"Are you living at Collinwood?" Angelique asked rather than answering Hallie's question. "I seem to have bumped you out of your uncle's home. I was supposed to be staying in the caretaker's cottage. At least—that's where I started out. But now I'm staying with Elliot Stokes." Angelique stopped, and a tremulous shiver touched her frame.

"Don't you like him?" Hallie asked, concerned.

Angelique considered.

"I have always preferred being alone," she replied in a low voice, "all my life. Alone was best. But now, at this moment in time, I absolutely don't want to be alone. Not—not while I'm sick like this."

"Are you sick? I heard you weren't well, but my uncle said—that is," Hallie came to a halt, and her face flamed. "He told me that your emotions were making you sick. That you were so upset, you made yourself sick. Is that what happened?"

Looking steadily out over the waving grasses, Angelique's lips were touched by a wry smile that Hallie didn't understand.

"Well," she finally replied, "I'm having a hell of an adjustment to make. I suppose your uncle told you about that as well?"

"An adjustment? Well, yes, Uncle Elliot said—he said that you were trying to get used to a different way of living. But that's all he told me," Hallie reported virtuously. "But if there's something I can do to help you, I'd be glad to."

After a moment, Angelique turned her face once more to Hallie. This time she lifted one hand and stroked curling tendrils of hair softly away from the girl's face.

"Thank you," she responded in a quiet voice. "Tell me, Hallie, have you ever made a mistake? A mistake so terrible that it shook your whole life to pieces? But—you're too young to answer such a question."

"I don't know what you mean," Hallie murmured, uneasily, "but I've made mistakes in my life, yes. Awful ones. Even mistakes where someone got hurt because of me."

Angelique studied the ground before her. "Oh yes," she mused. "I am acquainted with that sort of mistake. I've hurt more people than I can probably remember. I don't think that that's the way I began, but that is what happened." Angelique leaned back on the tree trunk, her elbows supporting her. "Your uncle might not want you to talk very much with me, in fact. You really should be afraid of me."

"Well, I'm not," Hallie protested honestly, frowning at this statement. "I want to talk with you. I don't have anybody to talk with. Maggie's been gone for months, and anyway, I could never get myself to ask her about—I mean—" Hallie blushed again. "The thing that made you so worried and sick, did it have to do with falling in love? Is that what happened the night of the party? Did you fall in love with someone that night?"

This question brought a slow smile to Angelique's lips. She glanced at Hallie again.

"No, I didn't fall in love," she answered, studying Hallie's crystalline eyes. "I was in love already."

Hallie lowered her gaze. "What is it like? How do you know if you love someone? What if you love the wrong person? How can you tell if someone loves you? I can't ask my uncle all this," Hallie muttered hastily, "or at least, perhaps I could ask him, and he would take time and try to answer me, but it's too embarrassing. I want to talk with a woman. I can never get private time with Mrs. Stoddard to ask her. Have you—have you been in love more than once? Has anybody ever broken your heart?"

Angelique was silent. Then, evading the girl's question, Angelique asked her, "Is there someone at Collinwood whom you believe you love? Let me see. Quentin, of course. Or Roger—do you have a soft spot for Roger? Then there is Elizabeth's striking new beau. Then there is Joe Haskell." Angelique shuddered slightly as she mentioned Joe's name, and Hallie wondered why. "It wouldn't be Garvey. There's Harry Johnson. Then, in and around Collinwood, we have Willie Loomis, Chris Jennings, and—Barnabas Collins." She shifted slightly. A corner of her mouth trembled. Hallie noted this, fascinated.

"I'm going to guess you're in love with Quentin. Is he the one?"

"No," Hallie breathed, "no, of course not—well, yes. The thing is, you see," she confessed, her voice falling to a whisper, "I think that I could love any of them. I do love all of them."

At this, Angelique stared at Hallie with piercing attention. "Truly? You do? No one more than the other? Well, you do. I could never understand something like that. For me, it was always one man. Well, that only means that you really haven't been in love yet."

Hallie felt a rush of concern for this strange, stunning-looking woman who looked so wan and strained in the sunshine. "The man you love," she ventured, "is he one of them? One of the men you just named."

"He might be. But I'm sure you would find the discussion wearisome. You have quite a bit of beauty, you know," Angelique told the girl. "You should use it to compel one of those gentlemen to pay you some proper attention."

Hallie laughed with pleasure. "Well, I couldn't do that," she gasped.

"I don't see why not. Tell me, what has been happening these days at Collinwood?"

"David is missing, and we can't find him no matter what we do. Even his father is up there searching for him though he's not supposed to be!"

Angelique frowned. "I don't understand. Why shouldn't Roger look for his own son?"

"No—I mean—Roger was very ill, and we think that that room in the east wing did it. The one with the dumbwaiter. So they were trying to keep him out of the room—Roger, that is."

Angelique wrinkled her brow faintly, trying to follow the narrative. "I'm afraid I don't catch your meaning. Well, anyway. He's not sick anymore, is he?"

"No, but it was awful! Oh, he did things. He went to the hospital."

"Did he?" Angelique asked, with decreasing interest. "That's too bad. Mind you don't get sick. Now, let me ask you this."

"Yes?" Hallie asked, wriggling with anticipation.

Locking Hallie's eyes with her own, Angelique asked, "Have you ever thought of studying witchcraft under a teacher?"

The house had been searched. Willie, Barnabas, Elliot, Julia, Harry and Mrs. Johnson had tramped through every room, calling for David. Elliot had finally advised phoning the Fire Department to see if they would come and assist and possibly get into the dumbwaiter shaft. Eventually, one of Collinsport's smaller firetrucks arrived with four volunteer firefighters. Julia suggested to them that they wear protective breathing gear in case the shafts were full of mold, and when one of them told the others how old the house was, they all agreed.

Blueprints of the house were produced, and the hatch of the east wing dumbwaiter in the basement located. One last dumbwaiter was indicated in the west wing, but upon examination, it was found that its basement hatch was heavily cobwebbed over and hadn't been touched in ages, and the dumbwaiter stations in the west wing rooms were papered over and undisturbed.

In the basement, with their equipment, the firefighters quickly opened the dumbwaiter door that Barnabas hadn't been able to budge. David was not lying at the bottom of the shaft. The firefighters checked the insides and the tops of both dumbwaiters, and then sent both to the highest location they could with the cables. Two firefighters then scaled the entire inside of both the Central and east wing shafts until emerging into attic rooms, where a partner fireman was waiting to help them get the dumbwaiter hatch open.

The Fire Department finally left, recommending that the family get in touch with the sheriff.

In the midst of all the excitement, the phone had rung. Mrs. Johnson had passed it to Julia Hoffman, who heard from Elizabeth of Roger's medical findings and the theory that some type of mold, or even poison or some drug, from the dumbwaiter had caused Roger's unaccountable illness. Elizabeth was vehement in her request that Julia and the others keep David and Hallie away from the shafts until more could be learned. Julia bit her lip as she listened. Neither Roger nor Elizabeth had any idea that David was gone and was last understood to have been inside the east wing dumbwaiter!

"The boy is missing," Elliot mused. "He's not at the bottom of one of the shafts. He's nowhere in the house and we haven't found a trace of him outside. Roger and Elizabeth are going to return from the hospital soon and walk right into the middle of this."

"If only we had access to a psychic," Julia fretted. Possibly one might have been found, but the one they would have immediately pressed into service was Carolyn Stoddard, David's cousin. Carolyn, who was away with her boyfriend Chris Jennings on a short vacation in New Hampshire, had recently begun showing remarkable psychic ability. Possibly Carolyn could help over the telephone?

Barnabas tiredly laid his face in his hands. He was deeply worried about David. They all were. Why was there no sign of him?

"I don't suppose that there is any way the I Ching would help us," Julia offered tentatively. This brought no reaction from Elliot. "This is preposterous. Where is he?" Julia cried.

Elliot sighed and looked at his friends, who gazed back with eyes of pain. "All right. Let's do some utterly creative, off-the-wall thinking. David's—on the roof. Could he have reached the roof from the shaft and is now stuck there? One of us ought to go out and scan the roofs of the house. David could be, oh, sleeping in Roger's car. We haven't checked all the outbuildings, you know. David's on Widow's Hill. It's entirely possible that you were right, Barnabas, in your theory that David wrote the note, delivered it to Hallie's room, went to the east wing, returned, then went—let's say he went outside. Possibly he fell, and was injured. He might be unconscious somewhere on the grounds this very moment."

At this portrait, Julia leapt up from her chair and began to pace. "That's it, then," she exclaimed. "We must put this matter in the hands of the sheriff immediately, and if Elizabeth and Roger return in the middle of the search, well, so be it. Barnabas, will you call?"

Barnabas looked desolate. He nodded to Julia and went to the telephone to make the call.

"What a pity Angelique is unable to help!" Julia exclaimed, giving Elliot a worried smile. "I am certain that she would have been generous with her aid in this case if she still had her powers. Tell me, how is she?"

Elliot raised his eyebrows. "Difficult. Furious. Shy, friendly, unfriendly, unsure. Disturbed to the point of being physically ill, actually ill, and crying herself to sleep. I wish I could be of more help to her. She is trying to learn what it is to be a human being again and this is—well, an unimaginable challenge. She could use some woman friends." Elliot turned a piercing eye upon Julia. "I was going to enlist Elizabeth, but I understand that there is something of a history there. Cassandra Collins was a baleful presence in this house. As Cassandra, Angelique nearly killed Elizabeth. I don't know why Elizabeth still accepts her as Mrs. Rumson, but there you are. The human mind is a limber organ.

"Angelique knows my feelings for her, and while I'm hardly the man she would have chosen, she seems content to remain with me for the present. If 'content' is indeed the word."

Barnabas returned to them, looking tired. "The sheriff is coming and bringing men to search. He suggests that we start looking in the nearest outbuildings until he arrives. He's going to try to get a local search dog from someone and wants us to have an article of David's clothing ready, to give the dog a scent to follow." Barnabas looked terribly worried.

Julia stood. "I'll go and ask Mrs. Johnson to make coffee, the search party might want it." She took Barnabas into her embrace and he squeezed her tight.

"I wonder," Elliot muttered. "Could there be a supernatural aspect to this sudden disappearance?"

Julia turned in Barnabas' embrace to stare at Elliot. "Oh, no," she breathed.

"What makes you suggest such a thing, Elliot?" asked Barnabas.

"I don't know, " Elliot admitted slowly. "he has disappeared so entirely. And why would a teenage boy climb into a dumbwaiter? For what earthly reason? It's something that a five-year-old might have done. No one was with him to move the dumbwaiter from room to room if that's what he wanted. Barnabas, might we look at David's note once more?"

"I have it here," Barnabas allowed, reaching into a breast pocket. "I took it back from Hallie when she returned with you. As for David expecting to get anywhere in the dumbwaiter, Hallie told me that there is a wheel in the dumbwaiter carriage by which one can send the compartment up or down, supposedly, while seated inside. I didn't even think of mentioning this—I thought David had somehow fallen into the shaft or was trapped behind some locked hatch somewhere."

Elliot took the note in his hands but kept his eyes on Barnabas' face. "Let me understand this," Elliot stated. "If I climb into the dumbwaiter, there is a device in the floor by which I can take myself up or down the shaft without another person pulling the cable?"

"That is my understanding. It must have been David's understanding."

"So David and Hallie have been climbing in and out of this dumbwaiter," Elliot went on, "which supposedly made Roger Collins so ill that he had to be hospitalized—and yet my niece is well." Elliot got up fast from the couch. "Or is she? I must see her at once." He sped to the hall and bawled out, "Hallie!" in the direction of the stairs.

"She was fine when she came to the Old House!" cried Julia, following Elliot out into the foyer, Barnabas behind her. "But I see what you mean! Roger hadn't been near the dumbwaiter this morning when he showed his symptoms, but yesterday he had been. You think that there is some type of incubation period, depending on the kind of allergen we're talking about. Ordinarily, human reaction to such a thing is immediate."

Barnabas now went to the stairs and cried, "Hallie!" Turning back to them, he clarified, "Then you think that perhaps there is some chance that David is lying somewhere or stumbling about someplace with the same symptoms Roger was suffering? And that Hallie will come down with it, too?"

"Dear heaven," Elliot muttered, but then his niece appeared at the top of the stairs—the same lovely, timid girl as always. She hurried down to them as all three studied her critically.

"Uncle Elliot," she said in a low, pleased voice and stepped into his embrace. He kissed her forehead. It was slightly warm—in other words, normal.

"Tell us more about this note David wrote to you," Elliot asked, producing it. "Why does it say, for instance, 'I'm going to go ride on the dumbwaiter and see what it does'? What did David imagine it was going to do, other than go up and down?"

Hallie gulped. "Uncle Elliot, we found a piece of paper in the dumbwaiter shaft, a note from maybe the eighteen-hundreds—it's up in the east wing room, I guess—it said—well, it was funny. Something like, 'bring all your wishes and hopes to the dumbwaiter and they'll be granted.' We thought it was a game from long ago. I don't think David actually thought he could travel anywhere in the dumbwaiter—"

"Travel somewhere?" Elliot cut in. "Hallie, show us that eighteen-hundreds note."

"Wait," interrupted Barnabas, "Is it safe? Perhaps we ought not to let Hallie near the dumbwaiter again because of whatever it is that got Roger so ill. But my God, she and I were just up there in that room and at the dumbwaiter!"

"Hallie," Julia commanded, brushing past Barnabas, "You're not to go into the east wing room, do you understand? There might be some dust or mold in there that's dangerous, that made Roger Collins sick. Just take us to the room or wherever the note is."

Hallie led them to the east wing and indicated the door of the room, which was ajar. They walked in and looked about. Hallie peered in from the hallway. "That's probably the note there, in the corner," she offered.

Elliot leaned over with a grunt and picked it up, and read it aloud. Then he stared at Hallie.

"Did you children think that this was a magical invitation from God," he boomed, "to a wonderland of some sort? Hallie, what was on David's mind when he entered the dumbwaiter? Or perhaps we can deduce that from this note." He sighed and regarded his stricken niece. "And so, he's entirely vanished."

"I'm going in after him," Barnabas blurted. Julia gasped.

He turned to her rapidly. "We won't find him in some outbuilding or at Widow's Hill—at least, I think not. I feel that he is right here in the house!"

"I seem to feel that too, though it might not be rational, linear thinking," agreed Julia.

"Let me get in and see where I go," Barnabas insisted.

"Ah! Exactly David's words!" noted Elliot. "Please, let's let the sheriff and his men have a crack at the case before we consider this option. Agreed?"

Barnabas hesitated. "All right," he allowed, "but I am going to re-enact David's voyage in this compartment if we don't find him very soon. What if there is a ledge off the shaft and he's stuck there, or unconscious there?"

"It was the three-hundred-pound weight capacity," Hallie explained as they all went downstairs again. "We got excited. David thought the dumbwaiter had been used to send people up and down the house in the Underground Railroad because of the wheel, but I guess it was the capacity that first got us to notice the dumbwaiter; that people could get in and ride."

"Of course," Elliot agreed. "Barnabas, do you know anything about Collinwood having a historical connection with the Underground Railroad?"

"No," Barnabas admitted thoughtfully. "But isn't that something that would have been kept very quiet? While the work was going on, anyway."

"David thought that someone designed that wheel in there so that slaves could escape and get from room to room to hide from the police if they had to," Hallie insisted.

Julia slipped her arm through Hallie's. "Let's get you some dinner. Maybe by the time we're done, the sheriff will have found David."

Mrs. Johnson, wearing rubber kitchen gloves, frowned at Harry, who was similarly gloved and frowning. "I'm going to scrub it as fast as I can and then we'll close it up again," she declared grimly. "There's nothing wrong with this dumbwaiter, or so I'm told. Mr. Collins wants it as clean as I can get it."

"Well, what am I doing here?" Harry complained.

"You're here in case the thing's so big that I can't reach all the way. Now hush. Get me that basin and the cloth." She turned away from her son and opened the dumbwaiter kitchen hatch—this was the one connected, as far as anyone could figure, with the central wing, not the east wing—pushed wide the door, and grunted.

"Well, how in the world did this get in there?" she asked, and, as Harry watched, she slowly removed a black and multicolored afghan from the compartment. "What—one of the firemen, perhaps, but I don't understand." She turned to Harry. "Take this out into the foyer, will you please, and leave it on the table out there. This afghan belongs in the drawing room unless the kids have been in Maggie's room among her things. She's got an identical afghan. I'll figure out which one it is when I'm done with this."

She pressed the afghan into Harry's gloved hands.