Dark Shadows: Angelique's Descent

by Lara Parker

  “You mean have them marry before the elaborate ceremony they’ve all been planning so strenuously? I was led to believe this wedding was to be the event of the season. Haven’t a great many guests been invited?” André was playing devil’s advocate, and even through the door, Angelique could hear the warmth in his voice from the wine.

  “I know,” the countess answered. “Everything here is so controlled, so fastidious. In the tropics decisions melt like ice, but here the ice is always hard … and permanent.”

  “I don’t know that I blame Josette,” André was saying, something in his voice Angelique had never heard: something pensive, and slightly melancholy. She crept back to the edge of the wall by the door so that she could hear every nuance.

  “Tell me, Natalie, now that you are older and wiser, as I myself am, what—when you were young—did you think of love?”

  “Love, André? Oh, I don’t remember. It—oh, very well, it was rapture! It was undeniable, irresistible bliss!”

  “Yes, ah, yes…” he answered. “Irresistible … rapture … I have never told you this, Natalie, although we have been very close, but Marie was not my one true love. She was a devoted wife, and I was fond of her, I respected her. She came from a good family, as you know, and the match was presentable, arranged by both our families. I married to please Father, and, I must say, I never regretted my decision. I actually grieved deeply when she died. She was a dear, sweet woman, and she gave me a delightful daughter who is the light of my life. But she was not the woman of my dreams.”

  “Oh … then who was?”

  André sighed deeply. “I have never admitted this to another living soul,” he said, “but the truth is, I don’t really know. I was young—a strapping lad, even if I do say so myself—you would have been amazed. Ah, yes, young, and wild, and full of conceit. I loved to ride. Martinique was so untamed then, and I had a magnificent horse that I would take into the sea. Have you ever ridden in the surf?”

  “No, I have not, never … dear God…”

  “You can’t imagine the feeling of being on a horse when he is swimming. This powerful animal, churning the foam, floating and digging for the sand, leaping over the wave, plummeting under the water, then galloping to the surface again. It is an unbelievable sensation! When I was on his back, I would feel like … like a god!”

  “And how did you meet this woman?”

  “What…? Oh, yes, well, early one morning, I was galloping for miles and miles along the water’s edge, a long way from my home, when I saw a girl, gathering shells, or scallops, by the line of the tide. I pulled the horse up and watched her. She was wearing a piece of cloth that was all the colors of the coral, and she was graceful, like a dancer, when she bent and lifted whatever it was she was finding into a basket on her hip. I can’t tell you what came over me, but I was drawn to her. She was, well … irresistible, as though she were not real, but a vision I had to make out before I could turn away. It was as if I had seen one of those rare birds in the forest, you know what I mean, that is so beautiful, you creep toward it without breathing because you know how exquisite it is and you simply must see it.”

  “Yes, yes, I have done that.”

  “I remember, I dived into the sea, I think because I hoped I could swim closer to her without being observed. I must have been afraid she would vanish if she saw me.”

  “And you say I have an islander’s imagination.”

  “When I walked out of the water she looked up and smiled and, you mustn’t be shocked, Natalie, I could see she was quadroon.”

  “I was going to say … naturally…”

  “She was honey-colored, with long black hair, and her eyes were like a tiger’s. She was a real beauty. She didn’t say a word, only turned and led me across the beach to her cottage, as though she had been expecting me. I walked behind her, and I can still remember her black hair swinging down below her waist in a luxurious cascade, and beneath it, that golden part of her that was below her waist but above her buttocks, and then the curving flesh that was wrapped in her pareu.

  “She took me inside, and her cottage smelled of mint and bay leaf, and so did she, spicy, herbal fragrances. There were bunches of dried flowers hanging from the ceiling. She fed me, and cared for me, and … and sang to me. I remember her honeyed songs. She was a goddess, in a dream—a flower, but not one of those tissue-paper flowers that are limp, and fragile—she made me think of an orchid, those up high in the tree that live on air—waxy, firm, the inside of a shell, with a sheen on her, her dark eyes, and her mouth like the delicate center of an orchid.”

  “Did you stay?”

  “Stay? Of course I stayed. Days. Weeks. I can’t remember. I only know she was the one woman I truly desired. She gave me … rapture … and I have never forgotten her.”

  “Why didn’t you—”

  “Marry her? Ah, yes. Well, one morning I woke up and she was gone. Like the idiot I was, I went home, and within six months I was a respectable married man and Marie was my wife.”

  “You never went back?”

  “Can you believe it? I am a callous bastard. I never went back. I shouldn’t say that. Years later, I was on that part of the beach, and I found the cottage, but it was broken-down and deserted. She wasn’t there. No, Natalie, I never saw her again.”

  Angelique fell back against the wall, chills lifting the hair on her arms. Raising a hand to her face, she traced each of her features with her fingertips, then stroked her neck and wrapped both her arms about her waist. She could scarcely believe what she had just heard. André was her father! Of course! She had his eyes and his fair hair, and were it not for a cruel trick of fate, she would have also had his name. She had always believed she had aristocratic breeding, that in her heart and soul she was a lady, and now she knew it was true. Resentment flooded through her. Somehow the revelation only made her more disconsolate. Her true father!

  * * *

  The day had been bitter cold and dark, and the wind whipped the branches of the trees, clawing like specters begging entrance at the glass. Thunder rumbled in the distance, warning of a storm, and streaks of lightning pierced the somber sky. Angelique stood at her window and thought she had never seen a sun so bleak, so darkly impotent, as it shone weakly through the clouds.

  Bitterness and hysteria fought for control of her emotions. The wedding had been rescheduled for that night, and she now believed there was nothing she could do. She had poured a new love potion into Josette’s rosewater, but Josette disliked perfumes and had never used it. An offer to massage her forehead with the rosewater had been rejected.

  Still, Angelique clung to the idea of marrying Barnabas herself, as though her whole life were at stake. Each cruel setback only drove her forward. Her mind was racing. Jeremiah! He was her only hope. However, only that afternoon he had promised André that he would leave Collinsport. What could she do? He had vowed he would take the first carriage out of town, hurriedly packed his belongings, and ordered his horse. Even though he knew Joshua would never forgive him, both he and Josette had recognized their shameless predicament and the imminent scandal that would tear the family apart. Bewildered and angry, he had made a gallant decision to sacrifice his career at the shipyards and renounce his claim on Josette, even though he was more strongly drawn to her than he had ever been to any woman in his life.

  After a desperate search, Angelique found Ben chopping wood behind the house. With the storm coming, the house would need a good supply of firewood. He laughed in her face when he saw her, a sharp barking laugh. “There wasn’t enough magic in that charm of yours! You didn’t get him after all.”

  She gathered her cape about her and shivered in the freezing wind. “Listen to me, Ben. I need to make another spell. Get me something of Jeremiah’s. Something small.” Ben stood up, towering over her, and she could smell the stale odor of his sweat.

  “Why don’t you get it yourself?”

  “What? I would never go into a gentleman’s bedroom. A lady doesn
’t do such a thing, and Barnabas is never going to be ashamed of me!”

  There was a crash of thunder, and the wind whipped the tops of the trees in a chaotic frenzy.

  “Why do you have to hurt people?”

  “I only hurt those who hurt me.”

  “What has Miss Josette ever done to you?”

  “She has taken the man I love!”

  “He loves her, not you! Can’t you see that?” And he cackled again, and grunted, a feral sound in his throat. He infuriated her.

  “Ben, you are stupid and backward! You don’t have the capacity to understand anything. Do you think the course of true love can never be altered? Barnabas will have every reason to stop loving her. She will belong to another man.”

  “Why are you doing this to him?”

  She sighed with irritation. “I’m doing it because I love him.”

  Ben lifted the ax and drew his thick fingers over the blade. “Mr. Barnabas has been kind to me. I don’t like doing something to make him unhappy.”

  “You underestimate me, Ben. I will devote my life to making him happy.”

  “Mr. Joshua treats me like a slave, but Mr. Barnabas said I can come and work for him when him and Miss Josette are married. I don’t want you to hurt Mr. Barnabas or Miss Josette.” He took a step toward Angelique, and she could see the hatred in his eyes, hatred he drew from years of helpless servitude. She had aroused that hatred when she forced him to obey her. Ignorant men, when angered, were dangerous.

  “You’re a witch!” he said, and she could see saliva dripping from his slack bottom lip. His eyes were bloodshot, and the muscles of his arm bulged through his shirt as he lifted the ax. “I’ll kill you—”

  There was a sudden sizzle of lightning, and a crazy spiral zigzagged in the sky behind him as the shattering crack of thunder caught him unawares. In that instant Angelique raised her hand and felt her body buck with the force of her will.

  “Stay where you are, Ben,” she said in a voice like ice. “Come no closer.” She took a breath, and it was as if the electricity snaked through the ground beneath her and out her fingers. “You can never harm me,” she hissed. “I have powers that protect me, and you are a greater imbecile than I thought if you strike with that ax. For the blade will turn, and you will rend your own skull.”

  Ben stood paralyzed, his ax arm lifted. He looked like a statue of a man set in the town square to honor the lowly workman. Only his eyes darted in terror. His lips moved, but he could not speak.

  “Do you feel it, Ben?” she asked coldly, as he nodded slowly. “Do you understand that you can never harm me? Do you promise me that you will never threaten me again?”

  He nodded again.

  “Then I will free you.” She lowered her hand, and Ben’s body shuddered as he dropped the ax to the earth. He stood staring at her sullenly, his eyes dazed, as though his mind had turned to sand. “Now go, and get me what I need.”

  He turned and shuffled into the house.

  Angelique remained a few moments, shaken and disturbed. The use of her powers had left her weak, and she was stunned by the vehemence of Ben’s anger. A feeling of utter loneliness invaded her spirit. She looked at the bare limbs of the trees etched on the white sky and tasted the bitter air. The sun had disappeared, swallowed up in the haze, and icy blasts of the wind against the panes of the cold mansion rattled the glass like skeletons in their coffins.

  Then she heard a strange twittering sound, as though the air were filled with crickets, and shadowy shapes flew over her head in haphazard streaks, sputtering like tiny crows. They were bats, darting in frenzied pairs from the chimney, where she could see a gaping hole open to the sky. Bats lived in the chimney!

  Something made her curious. She felt about for a loose brick and found a spot where the mortar had decayed. The brick slid sideways to reveal the cavernous interior of the chimney wall, and she could see the bats, fluttering, jostling one another for the light of the opening and ducking through to venture out into the early evening for a night of foraging.

  * * *

  Back in her room, Josette seemed to be her old self, elated, brimming with happiness, as she dressed for the ceremony; and Angelique was obliged to assist her, fastening the tiny buttons of her white dress, smoothing the lace and silk, arranging the flowers in her hair. All the while, Angelique felt that her bones were knives, and her heart pumped poison into her veins. She repeated over and over to herself, André is my father as well; all this could have been mine. Barnabas is the man I have loved since I was a child, who lived in my dreams, who taught me love’s mysteries. He is the lover of all that I am, my soul’s companion. How can I let him go to her? How can I let him wed another?

  The countess sat on a chaise in Josette’s room exclaiming over the dress. “My dear, you are exquisite! You make a beautiful bride.”

  Angelique was becoming frantic. Ben had stolen for her Jeremiah’s blue handkerchief, and now she begged leave to return a moment to her room. “I have a little something I want to give you,” she said to Josette, her voice weak as though she would faint.

  Once alone, Angelique realized the handkerchief was much too large as she fashioned a clumsy rosette, desperately forcing it into the shape of a flower as the rain beat at her window. She returned to Josette’s room and hurriedly reached for the rosewater. She sprinkled it on the flower, spilling it on the dresser and causing the handkerchief to become spotted and limp. It was an impotent spell, one that she was certain would never work.

  “What do you have for me?” Josette asked sweetly. But she frowned when she saw it.

  “It—it is an amulet, Mademoiselle, to bring you good fortune.” Angelique forced gaiety into her voice and leaned to pin the rosette on Josette’s dress. The drab blue cotton clashed with the delicate silk, and the flower looked lumpish and unwieldy. It was evident at that moment that Josette was fighting her own conflicting demons, for she reacted nervously, her voice strident.

  “Oh, I couldn’t possibly wear that.”

  “But why, Mademoiselle?”

  “It’s … well, it’s too cumbersome. It doesn’t go with my dress.”

  “But it will bring you happiness.”

  “Please, Angelique, this is no time to indulge in silly superstitions.”

  Angelique turned away, the agony of her desperation forcing hot tears to her eyes. Josette was astonished. “What? Why are you crying? Are you angry with me?”

  “I had nothing to give you, Mademoiselle, for your wedding. Only something from my heart. And you hate it!”

  “But, Angelique…”

  “I-I have failed you.”

  Josette looked to the countess for support, but for once that arbiter of all things suitable felt compassion for Angelique, and she responded to what she perceived to be a tender gesture. “Oh, wear the little amulet. What does it matter? It will make her happy and she has served you well.”

  Josette turned to Angelique, fighting her simple wish to have her dress flawless. Finally, her gentleness prevailed over her vanity.

  “I will wear the amulet,” she said.

  “Thank you, Mademoiselle,” Angelique responded, and she knelt and pinned the flower to the dress.

  * * *

  The wedding party waited in the drawing room for the bride to appear, and the minister, who had been called to the house with very little notice, became perturbed and then embarrassed for the bridegroom. The countess was dispatched to fetch Josette and she returned with a bewildered look on her face. “She isn’t there,” she said unhappily. “Josette isn’t in her room. She’s disappeared.”

  To Angelique’s amazement, the spell had overpowered them, and the hapless pair had fled together. When it was discovered that Josette was missing with Jeremiah, even though Jeremiah’s departure had been expected, there was great consternation in the house. André was more than distressed, and Barnabas was perplexed when he learned that both of their horses were gone from the stable and the stable man revealed they had
left together. He fought torturous suspicions, insisting that, “Jeremiah and I are like brothers. It is inconceivable that he would ever do anything to deceive me.”

  Nearly hysterical with worry for Josette’s safety, Barnabas convinced André to search the woods even though the storm still raged. He took his pistols in case they found her kidnapped or in danger. But Angelique knew he would find nothing, and she prayed that when he finally accepted the bitter truth of Josette’s betrayal, he could come to her for solace. He would be so changed, so contrite. As ashamed as she was of her meddling, Angelique felt that there had been no other way. The couple were probably married already and hidden away in some roadside inn. Besides, they were happy together now, and in love with one another, so what did it matter. She had only to wait for Barnabas to remember how much she had once meant to him in Martinique. Then she would have him in her arms again.

  But the weary and disillusioned man who returned from his failed search scarcely noticed her when she appeared in the hallway. He had found Josette’s shawl, torn and clinging to a tree branch, and he held it in his hands, looking down at it as though it were a talisman.

  “Has there been any news?” she asked, feigning concern.

  “Nothing of importance.”

  “You must take off those wet clothes and then you should rest. You must be tired after all that you’ve been through.” She wanted to go to him, but the coldness in his demeanor stopped her. He looked at her and seemed to sense what she was thinking. Bitterly, almost resentfully, he said to her, “In spite of all that I’ve been through, I still love her. Do you understand that? No matter what has happened or will happen, I will always love her.”

  Twenty-Nine

  When Josette and Jeremiah returned, enervated and listless, they were unable to defend their reckless adventure, even to themselves. Barnabas, numb with shock, sought an audience.