Chapter 44: Thief of Hearts
by Midnite
"Thus fate knocks at the door." --Ludwig van Beethoven
(Alexandra Moltke) "Collinwood in the year 1897 … A young woman has escaped
into the past in an attempt to return the hope of a future to her loved ones.
But to do so, she must first change the lives of the people that exist in that
previous time … and she will soon learn that pain and turmoil are not strangers
to them either."
Beth's eyes were widely opened flowers-- blue blooms with their dark centers
clenched to conceal the true feelings behind them. "You shouldn't have come
back!" she railed. "When Mr. Edward finds out…"
"My brother can't do a damn thing about it," Quentin said while encircling the
foyer. "Not this time."
"How can you be so sure? No one is allowed to even speak about you in front of
him."
"I'm here at my Grandmama's invitation." His voice had grown louder. "Now tell
me why YOU'RE still here?"
She averted her eyes. "Miss Judith asked me to stay on."
"You traded a handmaid's job for aprons and sweat?"
"I'm happy here." She had turned away but could feel his breath on her neck.
"You're lying," he whispered.
"It's true. I'm paid very well, too."
"Now I know you're lying." He held on to her shoulders, spinning her until she
was facing him again. "You stayed because of me, didn't you?"
"No," she whimpered.
He was caressing her now, and smiling-- always smiling. "Ahhh, Beth. It's
good to feel something besides the cold."
"Quentin!" a voice shouted from the landing. "Take your hands off her!"
"Hello, dear sister," he called out, but it was her employee that Judith
addressed next. "Grandmama had an accident. Please see to it immediately."
"Yes, ma'am," was the answer before they passed on the steps, a sleepy tear
adorning one of the young woman's eyes.
"And be sure to lock the door when you leave," Judith added.
"You can't keep me away from her!" Quentin snapped. "She's my grandmother
too."
"Wait," she said while leading him into the drawing room. Once the doors were
secured behind her, she turned to find Quentin unstoppering the brandy. "The
servants are always eavesdropping," she told his back.
"What makes you think they can't hear us in here?" he asked, and she knew that
he was right. "Why did you come back?" she asked.
"Because Grandmama wanted me to. Didn't she tell you?"
"Of course. We became very close while you were … away. She's often confused.
I'm sure that's what happened."
"Then why don't we go upstairs right now and ask her?" He watched as she paced
back and forth. "Jamison begged me to come back too, you know. Where IS my
nephew?"
"He and his sister went up to bed already."
"This early?"
"They said they were tired."
"And you believed them?"
"Quentin, leave the boy alone."
"So you can crush his spirit?"
"And what would he learn from you?" she snapped back. "How to seek solace in
alcohol?"
"Call him down here, then. We can ask him if he wants his Uncle to stay. If
he says he doesn't want me here, then you have my word that I'll leave first
thing in the morning. But if he says he wants me to stay…"
"You would take a chance like that?"
"Chance amuses me. You know that." He circled the divan, taking in the room.
"Nothing has changed. But nothing much ever changes around here, does it?"
Judith sat and folded her hands in her lap. "Things have never been worse,
actually. Everyone is fighting everybody else, and no one dares admit how they
really feel, even to themselves. But you've always been so different from the
rest of us. You never pretended to put your family's needs above your own, and
you know exactly what you want and aren't afraid to go after it. And then
there's the way you treat women…" He was staring, she noticed. "Am I being too
blunt?"
"Like a sledgehammer."
They heard several knocks, and by the time Quentin had availed himself of
another drink, he heard his sister say, "What do you want, gypsy?"
"I come to give you something that belongs to you," the familiar voice said.
"That's a first," Quentin declared while approaching the two women. "And who
is this?" he asked.
"Cute, eh?" Magda said as a she glanced back at the girl that was frozen in
place behind her. "She's Victoria Winters. She had an accident and I think
she's not right in the head, but she has papers say she here to marry Mr.
Edward."
Judith frowned at the girl's attire and careless hairstyle. And what was she
doing out without a proper coat? "It's warmer in the drawer room," she told
her. "Come with me."
Once out of their line of sight, the remaining pair embraced. "Quentin! I'm
surprised to see you here," Magda told him.
"I could say the same about you. Are you still reading Grandmama's cards?"
"Not so much anymore. The old lady gets weaker, and your sister grows
stronger."
Judith had returned. "She's warming by the fire," she announced. "Magda, you
have our family's gratitude." But the gypsy held out an empty palm.
"Very well," Judith said as she placed a coin in it. And when the other woman
had left, she said, "As soon as Grandmama is gone, I'm going to see to it that
every last gypsy is forced off the property."
~*~
It's freezing in here, she told herself after entering her quarters. The one
tiny, cracked window was glazed with ice, and it mirrored a heart that was
shattered and unreachable and frosted with pain. She collapsed onto the bed but
quickly pulled herself to sitting when a door swung open and Quentin ventured
inside.
"You shouldn't be in here!" she shouted up at him.
"It's my house," he said coolly. "I can go wherever I want."
"It's your grandmother's house," she corrected while scurrying to her feet.
"And when she's gone, it'll be Edward's. Everybody knows that." She was
standing too now, her chin jutting out in defiance.
"They're wrong, because I'm the one that'll be Master of Collinwood. And I
always get what I want," he told her as he boldly stepped closer. "Tonight
you're going to learn that."
His hands grasped her shoulders, and she felt a rush of feelings, swift and
flowing as water. She struggled to hold her ground but was no match for his
strength, so he dragged her toward him easily. She turned her face away from
his lips, causing them to press against her temple instead, and next she heard
herself say, "Let go of me or I'll scream. I'll scream so loud that the whole
house will hear it." He released her at once and she noticed that he wasn't
even looking at her but was eyeing something behind her, and then he pushed her
completely aside. "What's this?" he asked while reaching for an envelope on a
nearby dressing table.
"That's mine," she said quickly. "Leave it alone."
He counted the bills inside it. "There's $300 here. What are you doing with
that kind of money?"
"I earned it. Now give it back!" She tried grabbing for it but he dodged her
grasp.
"Then why is somebody else's name on the envelope?" he asked. "It says
'Filmore'". He let out a chuckle and added, "It looks like Edward's writing.
Did you steal it from him?"
"I told you, it's mine. It's my savings."
"Well I'm going to see about that," he said as he tucked it away under his
frock coat and then patted the spot. "And I'll need to hang on to it in the
meantime."
"No, Quentin, please!" she pleaded, and turned away to hide tear-filled eyes.
For so long her heart had been a frozen sea that only this one man had managed
to break through, yet since his return she had encountered only cruel
intentions and a cold smile. She reached deep inside to find her courage and
told him, her voice crackling, "I want you to leave now and never bother me
again." She waited, a small part of her hoping to hear his voice raised in
protest, but was unaware that he was searching for a key ring and that as soon
as he spotted it, the keys were silently scooped up into the palm of one hand.
What she did notice was the sound of his boots exiting her room and becoming
fainter as they stepped further down the hallway.
~*~
Quentin greeted his friend with the usual formality reserved for all their
public encounters. "Hello, Mr. Hanley," the younger man said, to which the
other in the pointy beard replied, "Good evening, Mr. Collins. I didn't
realize you'd returned." Then the latter's voice dropped to a whisper. "How did
you pull off getting back into the house?"
"I'll explain later," Quentin told him. "I planned to stop by your house."
"I'm expecting a few members around midnight," the lawyer told him while
unbuttoning a cashmere coat that Quentin eyed with envy. "But for the time
being, I have an appointment with your sister and it may take a while."
"You're here to see Judith? What about?"
"You won't believe this, but it's about your Grandmother's will."
"Grandmama's will?" he asked, his voice returning to normal. "Why would you be
seeing her about that?"
"Shhh. I'm here to negotiate a price to change it in her favor."
"To leave Judith all the money? But of course you're not really going to go
through with it?" Quentin demanded.
"She told me that she's willing to make it worth my while. Can you believe my
good luck?"
"Whatever she offers you, I'll double it."
"The problem with that very generous offer," Evan said reprovingly, "is that
Judith can pay me now and you cannot."
Quentin moved closer. "But I'll give you everything I have, and I'll inherit
the rest when the old lady is dead. I hear it won't be long now."
"But all of what you have amounts to nothing."
"That's not true. I happen to have $300 on me right now," he said while
producing the fat envelope, "and you can have it all. And there's more where
that came from."
"I see. What did you do-- steal that money?"
"Evan, you can't treat an old friend like this."
"Well, 'old friend', I'm afraid that I also have to deal with a, shall we say?,
cash flow problem."
"Oh great. Just how much do you need?"
"I have to get my hands on $5,000 very soon or I stand to lose my house and
everything in it."
"Ha! I knew that younger wife of yours would get you into trouble. I'm sure
we can put our talents to good use in solving both our problems. I can
personally see to it that the old witch is dead by morning. Then if you can
rush the will through probate…"
"I'm sorry, Quentin, but I can't help you. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm
already late, and I can't afford to make your sister angry."
"We're not done talking about this!" he said too loudly.
"I'll see you at midnight. And by the way, there's something else that we'll
need to discuss later. It seems that someone broke into my house earlier."
At last, Quentin seemed concerned about the misfortune of his friend. "Was
anything missing?" he asked.
"Only a few items that weren't of any consequence. But it's not like I can
report it… Miss Collins!" he called out as Judith emerged from the drawing room
and again closed the doors behind her. He stepped forward to meet her in the
center of the foyer and deposited his coat on the table nearby. "It's wonderful
to see you. I hope you can forgive my tardiness."
"It's quite all right," she explained. "We had some excitement that occupied
my time. Edward's fiancée arrived this evening from Boston. She's in the
drawing room, so why don't we take our business into the study? Please excuse
us," she told her brother, who stared at their backs until they disappeared
behind the door, his dreams vanishing with them.
~*~
"Hello, Quentin." The feminine voice startled him because he thought he was
alone. "I forgot you were in here," he told her, adding, "I haven't-- we
haven't met before, have we?"
"Oh no. Judith was just giving me a crash course on your family."
"I see. And, um, what did she tell you about me?"
"That you are very charming," Vicki said, blushing a little. "And I learned
you have a younger brother named Carl who is vacationing in New York."
"You'll find that Carl is very different from the rest of the Collinses. He's
the only one that isn't afraid to laugh. Would you like some brandy?"
"Thank you, but I already had some."
"You should get all you can before Edward starts hiding the good stuff again,
which will undoubtedly happen as soon as he learns I'm back." He sat beside
her. "You look a little overwhelmed. But don't worry, because our family
affects people that way at first."
"I- I don't think your sister likes me very much."
"She's probably just being overprotective. But I'm sure she'll come around.
Look at how quickly you're winning me over."
"Judith said you had just returned from a tour of Europe," she said, changing
the subject. "It sounded very exciting."
"Have you ever been abroad, Victoria Winters?"
"No. Until recently, I was never far from New York."
"I thought you were from Bost-..."
"I told you what I would do if you ever came back!" Edward Collins' face was
flushed and his sculpted moustache was twitching.
"But Grandmama wouldn't look favorably on anyone that hurt her favorite
grandson, now would she?"
"You are despicable!"
"But I've returned to ask for your absolution." Quentin dropped to his knees
and pretended to pray: "Forgive me, brother, for the sins I committed daily
against you."
"You are no brother of mine! You are no better than a lump of dung that one
tries to shake off his shoes if he has the misfortune to step on it."
Quentin stood and began to applaud. "You don't know how funny you are,
Edward."
"Even if I can't do anything to you now, it won't be long before I'll be in
charge, and then I'll make you regret that you ever returned!" he announced
before stomping away. Quentin squeezed the glass he held so tightly that
shards rained from his hand. "You can still get out while you can, Victoria."
"You've cut yourself," she said. "Let me see it."
"It's nothing."
"No, it looks very deep. You should get a doctor to look at it." She helped
him wrap the bloody mess in a handkerchief. "It'll be fine," he assured her.
Yet Vicki thought about the z-shaped gash on his palm and how familiar it
seemed. She once used a finger to trace the scar on her Quentin's hand, she
recalled, while they shared a blanket on the lawn behind Collinwood. But both
men couldn't possibly have received identical injuries. Her memory must be
playing tricks on her.
~*~
The first key chosen turned easily in the lock. Now he could enter the
fortress, but first paused in the doorway to peer into his Grandmother's world.
The room was much larger than the bed, with one side jam-packed with journals
and oversized books from floor to ceiling and a large window that afforded a
fine ocean view on the opposite wall. He surmised that all of these were as
useless to her now as her own limbs.
She was looking at him now, and suddenly the frown faded and her mouth grew
wider. "Is that you, Quentin?"
"It is, Grandmama."
"Close the door and come give me a kiss," she told him, and he sensed it was an
order and not a request.
"Are you as sick as everybody says?" he asked while dragging a chair behind
him.
"Not so much as they're hoping. Everyone in this house wants to bury me before
I'm dead," she said pitifully. "I dare not nap for too long, or I might wake
to find them throwing dirt on me!"
He kissed her cheek perfunctorily and seated himself at her bedside. "Judith
tried to keep me away from you, but Jamison wrote in his last letter that you
insisted on seeing me as soon as possible."
"Your sister and brothers are weak, but you've always been smarter and more
resilient than all of them put together." She waved a bony finger at him,
adding, "If not for the drinking and womanizing, there'd be no limit to how far
you could go."
"I traveled a long way to see you, so it better not have been just to hear one
of your lectures."
"Oh do be quiet and listen for a change. Quentin, I've looked into death's
eyes before, but this time-- this time will be my last. But before I can leave
this earth, I must pass on the secret to the family member I feel is the most
suitable, and I've decided that you're the only one worthy to hear it."
"You mean there's really a family secret? I've heard talk of it since I was a
little boy," he babbled excitedly, "and now I find out that it's not only true,
but you're going to tell it to ME. I've been asking that my luck would change,
and I knew it would happen eventually. Oh yes, I KNEW it would!"
"No, Quentin," she warned. "Don't think of this as luck, or that it's the
result of your dabbling. And haven't I told you to watch out for wishes? Only
an amateur would waste a talent like yours on such foolishness."
"The secret, dammit. Tell me the secret!"
"Very well, but my death isn't so imminent, you know. The secret is really the
family curse," she explained. "It's a burden that one family member in each
generation must take on." Overcome by a sudden spurt of coughing, she gestured
toward the water glass resting on her nightstand.
"What are you talking about?" he boomed. "The secret will give me power,
right? And I won't have to answer to anyone ever again."
"Water," she choked out. He absently brought the glass over and met her mouth
with it, and she sipped a scant amount before pushing it away. "Not power,"
she squeaked. "The secret, if it got out, would bring death to everyone at
Collinwood. Tonight, the fate of all future generations of Collinses will come
to rest on your shoulders."
He slammed the glass down and snatched up a bottle of red liquid. "What's in
this medicine they're giving you, anyway?"
"My body may be worn out, but my mind isn't addled. Now take care to not
interrupt again." Her emotions caused her to struggle for air between phrases,
not that he noticed. "In the family crypt … on Eagle's Hill … there is a rear
chamber … that was carved into the rock … over a hundred years ago. That room
… contains only a coffin … secured with chains and nails. Entombed there … is
your ancestor … Barnabas Collins … who was reported to have sailed … to England
in 1796. But the family records … are incorrect … since in truth … he lies
there in a cursed state … for he is now one of the living dead. And you … you
must see to it … that he is never released … or that single act … would mean
the ruin … of us all!"
TO BE CONTINUED...
No comments:
Post a Comment