Chapter Text
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand —
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep — while I weep!
O, God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
— Edgar Allen Poe
The last thing she remembered was falling. Then, there was nothing but darkness. The terror, the certainty of her death being a heartbeat away had been swallowed up and replaced by an all-consuming nothingness. She existed in a sea of inky blackness, unable to feel, unable to see. It was a fate worse than death. At least death’s chilling embrace would offer some small comfort.
There was no sense of time, let alone anything to indicate how long she had been here. She faced an eternity alone in an atramentous void with only herself for company. But how had she ended up here? Was it all a terrible nightmare? One she simply could not wake herself up from? She summoned all of her willpower and told herself, Wake up! And yet, the great emptiness remained.
She struggled to move, to find anything of substance. Whatever circumstances had abandoned her to this fate, she would not allow it to continue. She would find a way to escape. She had to. Somehow — miraculously — she found her voice and cried out, “Help me!”
*****
A gloved hand settled over the rounded cap of an elegant walking stick as its owner, a man concealed in shadows, who wore a fitted suit topped off with a bowler hat. The air itself seemed to be disturbed by his presence, shifting as if to avoid him. Even the fresh grass beneath his feet withered away, leaving nothing but dead stems in his wake.
He stepped through the trees and peered through the branches at the imposing mansion before him. Seeing the house again filled him with a mixture of emotions. There had been a time when he would have rejoiced over the structure being blasted into fragments at his feet. But then, the unexpected happened — a rare and mythic thing called love. Fleeting though it was, it upset his plans and the manor endured. Jealousy — blind and cruel — followed, trapping him in a vicious paradoxical cycle of loathing and devotion.
He tilted his head back and stared up at one illuminated window. If he concentrated hard enough, he could sense the woman moving around inside of her bedroom. A deep pang thudded within his chest, reminding of a time when he had last felt affection for something other than himself. With an effort, he abolished the memory. The past had become a blank slate. All that mattered was the future and the moment had arrived to set events in motion.
With one gentle wave of his hand, the air in front of him rippled and disturbed the limbs of the trees. The leaves rustled as if a mighty gust of wind surged from the sea and battered the great house. He lowered his hand and the gale subsided; the deed has been done, the spell cast. Tonight, the woman would experience a dream — a very special dream intended to connect the past with the future. Wearing a cunning smile, he doffed his hat at the house, turned on his heel, and disappeared back into the shadows.
*****
Collinwood, 1971. The illustrious Collins family of Collinsport, Maine — once plagued by seemingly endless disasters — have enjoyed a rare period of peace and happiness. Seizing upon this opportunity, each family member has embarked on their own journey taking some far and wide. In an attempt to uncover the secrets of Collinwood’s troubled past, Carolyn Stoddard Hawkes has become a parapsychology student under the tutelage of Professor T. Eliot Stokes. Meanwhile, Barnabas Collins and Dr. Julia Hoffman have temporarily departed Collinsport in an effort to finally lift a witch’s curse. But for one member of the Collins family, tonight will shatter the short-lived tranquility as Elizabeth Collins Stoddard finds herself gripped by unimaginable terror...
Soft clouds whispered across the sky, allowing shards of moonlight to illuminate a hulking mansion down below. For 176 years, Collinwood sat atop Widows’ Hill as a symbol of the Collins family’s wealth and power, casting its shadow over the town of Collinsport. Within its walls, matriarch Elizabeth Collins Stoddard settled herself in for the night. Dressed in an elegant peppermint striped gown, she sat at a vanity table and brushed her dark, shoulder-length hair. Now in her early fifties, Elizabeth remained stunningly beautiful and every inch the grande dame she presented despite the years of being haunted by her past.
She exhaled and the sound almost startled her. The house had been incredibly quiet of late. Although she should have been grateful for the silence, Elizabeth missed the frequent coming-and-going of her daughter Carolyn as well as the spontaneous rambunctiousness of her nephew David. She felt a deep pang in her heart over the thought of him. After Maggie Evans’ hospitalization and Hallie Stokes’ departure to live with relatives, David had been cast adrift without a governess and a friend. And David had become more difficult to live with again. His arguments with his father, Roger, were too numerous to comprehend.
When several runaway attempts had brought the unwanted attention of the police, Roger had insisted on a boarding school for his son and, much to Elizabeth’s surprise and protests, David had agreed. It seemed as if her nephew jumped at the chance to break free like a caged bird and fly as far and as fast as he could away from Collinwood. Elizabeth recalled how troubled David once was and how she had stood firm against Roger having the boy sent away. No longer a boy but a young man capable of making his own decisions, Elizabeth had left the matter to him. It pained her deeply that her nephew chose to leave. She had hoped for her brother and David to find a compromise. But that was an impossible wish. As Carolyn had pointed out, David was a teenager and there was simply no reasoning with one, especially when that teenager happened to be a Collins.
Elizabeth consoled herself with the fact David would return home for the holidays, and she would continue to oversee Collins Enterprises until he was old enough to inherit the business. Of course, Roger would never admit it, but underneath that façade of aloofness, she knew he missed David in his own way. Perhaps he yearned more for the father-son arguments than anything else? Whatever the case, Roger had thrown himself into his work at the Collins Fishing Fleet and turned out to be more reliable and productive than ever before. It came as something of a relief to Elizabeth and allowed her to focus on her own life.
After 18 years of living as a recluse, Elizabeth Collins Stoddard had hesitantly transformed herself into a social butterfly. Now a member of The Collinsport Historical Society, Elizabeth often found herself being called to speak at events or to simply make an appearance at local functions. It was a far cry from the person she used to be, one that almost seemed like a distant memory.
She gave another long sigh, put her hairbrush down and pushed herself up from the table. She moved across the room to her bed, where the covers had already been flawlessly turned down by Mrs. Johnson, the family’s housekeeper. Elizabeth reached for a glass of water and a pink pill awaiting her on the nightstand. She could not remember the last time she had slept without a sedative and she highly doubted she would ever be able to again. As she sank into bed, Elizabeth could already feel the effects of the drug lulling her to sleep. In what seemed like no time at all, she closed her eyes and began to dream...
The cliff of Widows’ Hill was unmistakable. Barren except for a lone dead tree with spindly limbs, the precipice had lured many a sorrowful victim to its edge where the jagged rocks below waited to claim another soul. Once, long ago, Elizabeth almost joined their number. She recalled the voices of the Widows calling out to her like the Sirens of Greek mythology. In total despair, Elizabeth had answered and made her way to this lonely perch where the summoning of the Widows imploring her to jump had been snatched away by the howling of the wind and the roar of the ocean waves crashing on the steepled rocks. She would have died that night if not for the efforts of Victoria Winters, David’s governess, who convinced her to face the truth and fight Jason McGuire’s vile blackmail attempt.
Now, Elizabeth stood on the cliff again. Only this time, she was to bear witness to another woman’s tragedy. The figure wavered precariously on the edge and Elizabeth gasped in horror. Overhead, a storm broke and drenched them in torrents of rain while lightning bolts sliced their way across the blackened sky. Elizabeth screamed, “Don’t jump! Come away from the edge! Please!”
And yet her pleas went unheeded. Elizabeth took a step closer, hoping to bridge the gap between herself and the other woman. The wind picked up and Elizabeth squinted against the gale, making it almost impossible to discern the figure’s long, dark hair whipping around her shoulders. “I’m almost there,” Elizabeth’s voice strained with desperation. “I won’t let you fall. I won’t!”
Suddenly, a man’s malevolent laughter cut through the deafening howling of the wind. Elizabeth froze in shock. The voice... it was familiar but she couldn’t quite place it. “Who are you?” she demanded, growing angrier as the laughter intensified, “I won’t let you hurt her! I can save her, I know I can!”
Within a few inches away from the other woman, Elizabeth stretched out her hand even as she felt herself being buffeted by the storm. She felt the warm fabric of the figure’s crimson dress and a sense of relief began to wash over her. Encouraged, Elizabeth’s actions fueled with determination, she began to carefully pull on the other woman’s arm and draw her away from harm.
But then a booming peal of thunder coupled by the incessant laughter of the phantom broke through Elizabeth’s grasp, sending her reeling backward as she could only watch helplessly as the figure she had tried so desperately to save plummeted over the edge. “No!” she exclaimed, crawling her way over the ground to peer down at the rocks. As if in slow motion, the other woman fell toward her watery grave... only to be swallowed up in the shadows.
Unable to fully comprehend what she had witnessed, Elizabeth covered her ears as the man’s laughter threatened to overwhelm her. “Stop it! Stop it!” she cried out. And just like that, the wild chuckling ended and the storm subsided. Elizabeth found herself completely surrounded by darkness. She glanced all-around only to discover the vast emptiness stretched out forever. Even the cliff of Widows’ Hill had disappeared. Fear struck her to the core, sending a bone-chilling shiver through her body. She was alone, utterly and completely alone... until she wasn’t.
Two pinpricks of white appeared in the distance. “H-hello?” Elizabeth faltered, “Is anyone there?”
The image focused as the two objects moved closer and Elizabeth steeled herself as she realized it was two pale disembodied hands. They reached out in supplication and a small voice pleaded, “Help me!”
Elizabeth awoke, screaming.
*****
Carolyn Stoddard Hawkes drove her way along the road leading to Collinwood’s estate. It never ceased to amaze her what a treacherous journey it could be. One wrong turn, the slightest distraction, and the road could put one’s life in serious danger. That’s what happens when your kooky family decides to live on a cliff, she told herself. She would never forget how her uncle Roger had almost lost his life traversing the pathway. Of course, in Roger’s case, David’s tampering with the brake cylinder of his car had a lot to do with it. She shook her head at the memory, her long blond hair rustling her shoulders. Nearly six years ago. What a difference time makes.
She returned her attention to the road as the great iron gate inscribed with the name COLLINS eventually appeared. Carolyn parked and stepped out of the car, unlocking and opening the gate wide enough for her Volkswagen to ease through. As she eased back into the driver’s seat, her mind wandered back to the telephone call she’d received from her mother earlier in the week. Elizabeth has been cryptic but insistent to speak to her about something important. The conversation left her immensely curious and somewhat frustrated that her mother simply could not tell her over the phone. Carolyn tried to imagine what crisis had occurred that required her presence at the ancestral heap. She wondered if David had returned and there had been an almighty blow-up between him and his father. Carolyn really wasn’t in the mood to diffuse one of those situations.
As she drove past the greenhouse and the stable, Carolyn had to admit she missed the estate a little. Her studies had kept her preoccupied and she felt guilty for not phoning her mother more often. She hoped this weekend trip would clear those feelings and set her mind at ease. Years ago she had longed for a white knight to ride up on his trusty steed and rescue from the dungeon she likened Collinwood to. It had taken a long time for her to realize she didn’t need rescuing, she could escape anytime she liked. All it took was setting one foot outside the door and keep ongoing. The independence was invigorating, but in her heart of hearts Carolyn knew something would always draw her home to Collinwood... like the proverbial moth to a flame.
The mansion came into view, stirring mixed feelings in Carolyn. Collinwood was a double-edged sword. It had brought the family tragedy and happiness, which seemed to go hand in hand. As a Collins, you simply could not have one without the other. It was a fact of life she had grown accustomed to. She felt a little smile tug at one corner of her mouth as she spotted her old bedroom window. Carolyn had no trouble imagining it looked exactly the same as the day she’d left.
Parking her car in the garage, Carolyn removed a suitcase from the backseat as well as a wrapped package which she tucked under her arm. She waved to one of the servants tending the garden before walking up the path to the great doors. Before she could retrieve her key, the doors burst open and she was greeted by her mother, who embraced her warmly.
“Carolyn, you’re home. Oh, how I’ve missed you, darling.”
“I’ve missed you too, mother,” Carolyn responded sincerely. She felt a tug on her heart and closed her eyes to take in the moment.
“What on earth have you got there?” Elizabeth wondered as she stepped back and noticed the package her daughter was carrying.
“Now mother, you didn’t really think I would come home without bearing gifts. Did you?”
“You didn’t have to do that, darling. Having you back home is gift enough.”
“Nonsense,” Carolyn brushed aside. “What would happen if word got out that Carolyn Stoddard Hawkes didn’t bring her mother a present? All of Collinsport would collapse.” She laughed as she sat her suitcase down in the foyer and presented Elizabeth with the gift. “Besides, I like to keep Uncle Roger’s tradition going. Don’t you remember how he’d always come home with a present for me?”
Elizabeth started to unwrap the package. “It’s almost too pretty to open.”
“I hope you like it. The minute I saw it in the store window, I thought of you.”
“Oh darling, it’s lovely.” Elizabeth had opened the box to reveal a stunning brooch in the shape of a violet.
“I could never forget your favorite flower,” Carolyn enthused, taking the brooch and pinning it to her mother’s blouse. “There, now what’s the big emergency that required me to drive all the way from Bangor?”
Elizabeth’s gaze dropped and she gestured forward. “Let’s talk in the drawing-room. Mrs. Johnson is already preparing some tea.”
Carolyn noticed the shift in her mother’s mood. Something was definitely troubling her and it was beginning to make Carolyn nervous. She took off her coat and laid it beside the telephone on the table beside the staircase. “Where’s Uncle Roger?” she asked before following her mother into the drawing-room.
“He’s at the shipyards,” Elizabeth answered, taking a seat on the sofa. “You’ll see him later.”
“He’s alright, isn’t he? I mean, nothing’s wrong with him or you?”
“No, darling. It’s nothing like that. What I have to talk to you about is something your uncle Roger would dismiss.”
Carolyn sat down beside the fireplace where the warmth of the crackling flames seemed to offset the sudden chill she felt trickling down her spine. “If it’s something Uncle Roger might dismiss, then it must be something supernatural.” Now her curiosity was well and truly piqued.
“Yes, I...” Elizabeth hesitated to confirm her daughter’s suspicion. “I think it is.”
Before she could elaborate, Mrs. Johnson turned the corner and entered the drawing-room with a silver tray upon which were two teacups, a piping hot pot of tea, a bowl of sugar cubes, and a pair of freshly ironed cloth napkins. “Miss Carolyn!” she exclaimed, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
“Hello, Mrs. Johnson.” Carolyn hopped up to help place the tray down on a table. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Nothing much to complain about, except these old knees which have been acting up something fierce. I just don’t like this time of the year, I just don’t like it. That wind goes right through me and when I’ve finished cleaning upstairs, I can barely make it downstairs, and then...”
Elizabeth cut in, “Mrs. Johnson, Carolyn, and I have a lot of catching up to do. If you’d like, you can take the rest of the day off.”
“The day off?” The housekeeper appeared scandalized. “Oh, I couldn’t do that. There’s too much to be done today. And, if I don’t get to it today, that’ll be extra to do tomorrow.”
“Alright then, thank you for the tea. And, Mrs. Johnson? Would you close the doors on your way out?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mrs. Johnson dutifully obeyed, making her way out of the room and shutting the doors firmly behind her.
After a long moment, Carolyn threw her head back and burst out laughing. “I see nothing’s changed around here.”
Elizabeth, despite her worries, could not help but smile. “If there’s one constant you can depend on at Collinwood, it’s Mrs. Johnson.”
Carolyn reached for the teapot, pouring herself and her mother a cup. “Now that we’re alone, what’s been going on that’s upset you so?”
Ignoring the tea, Elizabeth clasped her hands together as she stood up and began to slowly pace the room. “Carolyn, I know it sounds silly, but I’ve been experiencing a dream. A terrible, horrible nightmare every night for a week.”
“A dream?” Carolyn tensed. Dreams and her family had a rocky history, to say the least.
“I can’t begin to understand what’s triggered them,” Elizabeth continued, her tone teetering between panic and confusion. “It isn’t as if anything awful has happened. On the contrary, things have been quite well.”
“Mother, you don’t have to convince me,” Carolyn assured her. She placed her teacup back on the tray and got back up on her feet. “Tell me, what happened in this nightmare? If you talk about it, I’m sure you’ll feel better.”
Elizabeth felt strengthened by the comforting touch of Carolyn’s hands on her shoulders. “You’re right,” she agreed. Turning to face her daughter, Elizabeth related the dream from beginning to end, describing her experience down to the smallest detail. Once she had finished, Elizabeth almost felt relieved to have shared the burden she had carried for the past seven days. Carolyn’s reaction, however, left her feeling more worried than ever before. “Carolyn, darling, what are you thinking? Have I gone mad getting myself worked up over a dream?”
“No, mother,” Carolyn answered, chewing her bottom lip as she contemplated the nightmare. “I’m not a dream analyst by any means, but I think you’re right to be concerned.”
“You really think so?”
“Yes.” Carolyn nodded, adding, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to Professor Stokes about this. Peculiar dreams are right up his alley.”
“Perhaps I should have called him in the first place? Oh, I wouldn’t have even bothered you if Barnabas and Julia were still here.”
“Have you heard from them?”
“No.” Elizabeth took a step toward the window and gazed out at the view overlooking the sea. How many times had she stood in this very spot in contemplation? It had never offered her the slightest answer to a question that plagued her mind. Still, she could not stop the habit of a lifetime. “I hope they’re both well.” She sighed, “They left in such a hurry that I barely had a chance to say goodbye.”
Carolyn was not in the least bit surprised. “Did they say what the rush was all about?” She held up her hand and shook her head, adding, “Let me guess? They either wouldn’t tell you or, if they did, it has something to do with tracking down some elusive tome.”
Hearing that allowed a soft smile to brighten Elizabeth’s features. “According to Barnabas, he and Julia decided they both wanted to enjoy some time away from Collinsport.”
“Interesting.” Carolyn mulled the thought over. She had learned a long time ago that Julia and Barnabas never did anything without an ulterior motive. Still, there were more pressing matters to attend to. “What about Quentin?”
Elizabeth sighed, “I received a letter from him about a month ago. He sounded well and happy. I only hope he finds what he’s looking for.”
Quentin Collins, their rakish, debonair cousin, had departed Collinsport about a month before Julia and Barnabas. He cited no reason except for a vague need to stretch his legs beyond the confines of Collinsport. His knowledge of the occult would have been a great help at a time like this.
“We’ve all gone and left you in the lurch, haven’t we?” Carolyn observed, the topic causing the mood to turn somber. As only she could, Carolyn turned on a dime and lit up the room with her smile. “Well, now that I’m here maybe you’ll have a good night’s sleep tonight.”
“I hope so. I don’t know who the woman in that dream is, but I feel like I have to help her. Whoever she is, I have to. Carolyn, I must.”
“Alright, mother.” Knowing how much the dream distressed Elizabeth hurt Carolyn deeply. Her mother had endured so much pain and loss over the years that she more than deserved to live a life free of worry. “We’ll find a way — I promise.”
That seemed to placate Elizabeth whose steely resolve emerged as she turned to face her daughter. “Until we know for certain that my nightmares are something to be concerned about, I don’t want a word of this mentioned to Roger.”
“Mother, I’m sure Uncle Roger would understand.”
“I highly doubt that. I know your uncle too well. He would declare that I was behaving hysterically over nothing.” She stepped back toward the sofa, her tone more determined as she added, “Don’t forget how I was committed to Windcliff while Roger was married to Cassandra.”
“How could I forget?” Carolyn vividly recalled her mother’s death obsession during the summer of 1968. Terrifying didn’t do justice in describing Elizabeth’s state of mind, or the aftermath in which the prediction of her own demise had turned out to be true. The spell had only been broken through her mother’s sheer force of will and love for her. “But mother, this is completely different.”
Elizabeth turned, fixing her daughter with a soft, imploring gaze. “Carolyn, please? Do this one thing for me.”
“All right, mother,” Carolyn relented. “I won’t mention anything to Uncle Roger. But I’d better try and reach Professor Stokes. He’s notoriously difficult to get a hold of on the weekend.” She hurried over to the telephone and picked up the receiver to talk to the operator.
Nearby, Elizabeth watched her daughter place the call. She knew she should have felt relieved to unburden herself. But the woman in her dream continued to plague her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, she could still see those white hands reaching out of the darkness and hear that far away voice crying out, “Help me!”
*****
Roger Collins had one thing on his mind when he returned home to Collinwood that evening: a glass of brandy. One in the morning and one in the evening, a habit spanning nearly a lifetime. As he relished the thought of downing the oak nuances of whiskey mixed with the softness of sweet wine, he drove his Plymouth Barracuda along the estate’s driveway and toward the garage. Once there, Roger found himself taken aback to notice Carolyn’s car parked inside.
A wry smile etched itself across Roger’s handsome features. His niece’s latest fascination must have lost its charm, otherwise, he simply could not imagine what had brought her home early. Maneuvering his automobile beside Carolyn’s, Roger turned off the motor, reached for his briefcase and sauntered toward the house. He huddled into his coat as a brisk wind rattled through the trees on the estate’s grounds. Now, Roger longed for a nice, warm fire to go along with that coveted snifter of brandy.
Stepping inside Collinwood, he caught sight of a vivid splash of color as Carolyn, wearing a red blouse with a brightly speckled skirt, was finishing up a telephone call in the foyer.
“Kitten,” he said, using his pet-name for her. “What on earth are you doing here?”
Carolyn replaced the receiver and turned to greet him with a beaming smile. “Uncle Roger, you’re not happy to see me?”
“Nothing could be further from the truth, my dear.” He bridged the gap between them and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I thought you would be away for at least another month.”
“I would of been but a girl gets kind of lonely for home sometimes,” she playfully replied, taking care not to reveal the true reason for her visit.
“Come now, I simply cannot imagine you of all people feeling lonesome. Especially in Bangor. The last time we spoke, I distinctly remember you telling me about the line of young men trying to catch your attention.”
Carolyn laughed, “They’ll just have to live with broken hearts because I’m far too busy to deal with them.”
Roger made a slightly disapproving sound as he fixed her with a withering gaze. “Carolyn, of the hundreds of things you could be doing it will baffle me to my dying day why you chose to pursue a lot of mumbo jumbo with Professor Stokes.”
“Uncle Roger,” Carolyn sighed, readying herself for an argument. “We discussed all of this months ago. You might not want to admit it but too much has happened to our family for one of us not to look into it.”
To be truthful with herself, Carolyn never imagined taking a course in parapsychology. She would have preferred being happily married, but fate would have it for her to suffer sadness like the rest of her family. And that had been one of the reasons she sought out Professor Stokes. Carolyn simply wanted answers. What had doomed the Collins family to be plagued by the supernatural? So, she had taken it upon herself to uncover the truth and she did not need anyone’s approval to do so.
“Yes, yes,” Roger chided her. “Your last diatribe on the subject still haunts my dreams at night.”
Carolyn froze. If only her uncle realized how much that statement hit home. Her mother had been right; telling Roger about her recurring nightmare would have resulted in an enormous waste of time. Carolyn pasted on her most forgiving smile and said, “Uncle Roger, I didn’t come all the way home to fight. I missed you and mother, and I want us to spend a few days together...” She paused, and then added meaningfully, ”...without arguing.”
Roger smiled. He always liked Carolyn. Next to her mother, she was the only person in the world who could match him on the battlefield. “All right, Kitten,” he conceded, “we’ll hold a ceasefire for the duration of your most welcome of visits.”
Offering a playful curtsy, Carolyn giggled like a teenager as she helped her uncle out of his coat while he set his briefcase aside. “How has mother been?” she asked, following Roger into the drawing-room.
“Haven’t you asked her yourself?” Roger made a beeline for the drinks cabinet and began pouring himself a glass of his beloved brandy.
“Of course, but you know mother. She’s not going to tell me if something’s wrong.” Carolyn tread carefully, attempting to learn if her uncle had noticed anything different about his sister without giving away her reason for inquiring.
“She’s been happy as a lark,” Roger replied, swirling his drink around the glass. “That is when I have a chance to see her. She’s usually flitting in and out of the house these days. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” Carolyn pretended to shrug the topic off. “I was worried she might be lonely.”
Roger took a satisfying drink and said, “Rest assured, Liz is doing well. If she wasn’t, I would be the first to know. Where is your mother this evening?”
“Oh, she’s upstairs getting ready for dinner,” Carolyn replied. “She thought it would be nice to go into town.”
“And avoid one of Mrs. Johnson’s boiled dinners?”
Carolyn laughed, “Why don’t you join us?”
“Thank you, Kitten. But I would prefer to put my feet up and relax by the fire. You know there’s the most awful chill in the air.”
“You’re beginning to sound like Mrs. Johnson,” Carolyn teased.
Roger rolled his eyes. “Heaven forbid.”
Carolyn gave her uncle an affectionate pat on the shoulder as he sank down into the sofa. “I’d better get myself dolled up before mother comes down. I’ll pop in and see you when we get back.” She scampered out of the drawing-room and hurried upstairs leaving her uncle to ponder over his sifter.
*****
Having changed into a more elegant floral-print gown, Carolyn sat at the vanity table in her bedroom and brushed her hair. Her mind remained focus on her mother’s nightmare, which she tried to unravel the meaning of. It was incredibly detailed, so much so that Carolyn could almost picture the events playing out before her eyes. She gave an involuntary shiver at the thought of witnessing someone plunging to their death. There were many legends surrounding Widows’ Hill. The most prevalent being the one revolving around Josette Collins, who leaped to her death in 1796. A governess working for the Collins family had followed sometime afterward, with a third prophesied to join them.
Carolyn was certain it wasn’t Josette’s ghost contacting her mother. Perhaps it was the other lost soul? Frustratingly, they knew so little about the victims of the hill. Just another reason why Carolyn hoped her research would prove fruitful. Thankfully, she had managed to leave a message for Professor Stokes, who returned her call before Roger returned home. Stokes proved to be intrigued and urged her to keep a close eye on Elizabeth and report any unusual activity. That had done little to assuage Carolyn’s concerns. If her mother’s nightmare proved to be nothing, then fine. But, what if something unnatural was to blame? She could only hope Stokes would be able to arrive in time to help them.
As Carolyn finished primping, she set her brush down and checked her appearance in the mirror. She felt an abrupt chill and rubbed her harms to warm herself. Where did that breeze come from? she wondered, turning around to check that her window was firmly latched. Reassured a gust of wind hadn’t blown it open, Carolyn felt the icy sensation pass as if it never occurred at all. Mother’s dream is getting to me, she decided, only to fret over how badly it was effecting Elizabeth too. Deciding it was past time to check and see if her mother was ready to leave, Carolyn straightened and began to stand... only to stop as she felt icy fingertips brushing her cheek. The touch felt... familiar.
“Who’s there?” she asked shakily.
Carolyn remembered Professor Stokes’ teachings, clearing her thoughts and focusing on allowing the presence to contact her. She closed her eyes and whispered, “Did you cause my mother to have those dreams?” Just for a second, an image flashed within her mind. In an instant, she recognized the cliff of Widows’ Hill. “Who are you? Please, tell me how I can help you.”
The presence swept by her with such force that Carolyn lost her concentration. Her eyes blinked open and she steadied herself, frustrated over losing contact with the spirit. Then, she felt an odd tingling running along her spine. Sensing something new, Carolyn gasped, her eyes widening as she gazed back into the mirror, which had inexplicably frosted over. Slowly, words began to scrawl their way through the fog.
H E L P H E R
Carolyn screamed in horror...