Subj: Taken to Task, Part 6
Date: 7/16/00 3:09:08 AM Central Daylight Time
From: Carol H. Monterosso
Meanwhile.................back at the Old House.
Dianna parked her car on the gravel driveway that led to the Old House. She sat in her car for several minutes looking at the elegant old home. It was impressive. Very old but impressive. Dianna loved old homes. She could imagine herself being mistress of a relic like the Old House: polishing the mahogany bannisters, carefully washing the crystal chandeliers and waxing the hardwood floors would not be a chore. It would be heavenly. She could see why Willie would ramble on about his restoration work and how he was making the "shack" turn into a "grand old dame" of the village. Yes, this house would someday he a highlight of the "Elegant Old Homes of New England" summer tour schedule that Collinsport and other towns participated every year, she thought. She had seen flyers posted in the library.
If Willie was available, she had hoped they would spend this Sunday touring a particularly odd home by the sea. Many strange events had occured at this house and the tenant relunctantly allowed tours for the first time this year. She was anxious to see it and, hopefully, meet the mysterious man who lived there. Some villagers had already met the good looking, suave, debonair man who called himself....Nicholas Blair.
Enough day dreaming, she thought. Time to find out where Willie has been hiding. As she got out of the car, she looked herself over to make sure she was presentable--just in case Willie opened the door. She tried to look her best but now that they were dating, Dianna wanted to make sure he saw her at her lovliest at all times.
Barnabas opened the door to find a stranger standing under the portico. He noticed that she had plain features. To his thinking, this waif needed attention but she was dressed as well as she could afford. The plain, green shift she wore was bought off the clearance rack. Her long, brown hair would always be straight and never hold a curl. A light powder and mascara decorated her face; cosmetics were not part of her budget. Small, diamond stud earrings twinkled at her earlobes, a college graduation present from her parents. The correct application of make-up, new hairstyle and better clothes would improve this creature immensely, he thought. Josette and Angelique had always looked their best no matter what the occasion. Calling on friends and family meant their best frock, perfumed skin and curled hair.
"Mr. Collins? Mr. Barnabas Collins?" she asked politely, her voice betraying a slight New England accent.
"Yes. I am Barnabas Collins. Why do you ask?" he brusquely replied.
"I'm looking for a friend of mine. Willie. Willie Loomis. He said he worked here." Her questioning voice hoped she was speaking to the correct Collins.
"Yes, he does. May I ask how you know DEAR Willie?" She didn't like the inflection as he said the word 'dear'; it implied annoyance. She didn't know the man but already disliked his attitude.
"We met at the library," was all she was willing to offer. She felt he didn't need to know more about their relationship.
"Oh, how nice." Again, the sarcastic tone.
"Do you know where he is?"
"Of course I do. He's out of town on an urgent matter of mine. Why do you ask?"
"I haven't seen him lately at the book discussion group and wondered if he was alright."
Book discussion group? Barnabas thought. What in heavens name would Willie be doing at that? It certainly wasn't to be with this homely creature that stood before him. Trying to rise above his station in life he surmised. Well, Reverend Trask will certainly knock that out of him! Willie was good for one thing only--slave labor. Tending to the restoration and running errands kept him more than busy during the day and early evening. Once Trask was done with him, Willie would be satisfying noctural needs. A slave should be on call 24 hours a day, Barnabas felt. Willie would have to suffice on a few hours sleep every night if he wanted to stay alive.
Willie knew that all too well. After Barnabas had killed Jason and made Willie bury him in the mausoleum, he told Willie outright that when the time came, Willie would join Jason in a narrow, unmarked grave. No one had come looking for Jason. And no one would come looking for Willie...or so he thought. The someone was standing in front of him.
"When he returns, I'll tell him you inquired." He was hoping she'd take the hint that the inquistion was over.
"Do you know when that will be?" she asked shyly. She was disappointed that her weekend plans had to be revised.
"No, I do not," he said, exasperated at her questions. "Now, young lady, when he returns, I'll tell him of your visit and he'll be in touch. Whom should I say called?"
She wasn't sure she should leave her name. Even if he was a Collins, his haughty attitude seemed sinister. She was glad he had not asked her inside the mansion. Being alone with him gave her the chills; it made her step back on the slate entrance. His handsome face, dark features, and impeccable taste in suits did nothing for her.
"Your name?" he asked again. He was now irritated that she hadn't responded quickly and was on her way down the driveway.
"Oh," she laughed nervously. "My name is Dianna and I work at the Collinsport Library. He'll know who you mean. Thanks for your time." Finally, Barnabas thought, rolling his eyes heavenward as she turned and left. He wasn't knowledgeable about cars to know makes and models but he would recognize her car again. It was a distinct bluish- green color, like the sea.
Trask would have to be made aware of this latest developement. It could be used to convince Willie that he'd return much sooner to the Old House if he complied with his wishes. Trask and Barnabas had agreed upon weekly updates; the next one would occur in a few days.
Barnabas smiled at the thought of his servant returning home: humble, compliant, non-verbal, and ready for penetration.
He closed the double doors and returned to his solitude.