Subj: Charade: Chapter 4
Date: 10/26/01 10:56:07 PM Central Standard Time
From: Nicole

December 2, 2008, Collinwood, 4:50 PM-PT

Gwynneth had intended to leave the east wing after her parents sent her away. She had truly wanted to see her brother. But a voice at the end of the hall caught her attention. It said, “Come here, little girl. I won’t hurt you. I just want to talk.” Gwynneth walked closer to get a better look. A small woman stood in the doorway, smiling. “It’s fine, dear. Come inside.” Gwynneth shrugged and entered.

The room seemed filled to the brim with useless things. It seemed as if the woman had pilfered through the antiques that the family kept locked away in the attic and took the things she wanted. She seemed to take a special liking to lamps and scarves. Gwynneth counted at least fifteen lamps crammed into the moderately sized bedroom. They sat two to a desk or table and lined the floor in unidentifiable patterns. The scarves had been draped over the lamps and hung haphazardly from the light fixtures. Gwynneth heard the door slam shut and turned to meet the dark eyes of the woman. The woman instantly broke into a smile that seemed to consume her face. She carefully walked around Gwynneth and took a seat in a scarf-covered chair. She turned on the lamp and let the light illuminate her face. She was a lovely woman. Her trim build was drowning in the yards of fabric that made her dress. Her pretty face was free of make-up and shone with an inner radiance. Her long auburn hair was shot through with silver/white streaks and was pulled back into a long braid that trailed behind the chair. “Hello, little girl,” she cooed in a voice that sounded similar to Gwynneth’s, “what’s your name?”

“My name is Gwynneth Marie Blake.”

“Hello Gwynneth Marie.” The woman extended a hand a said, “I’m Amy.”

Gwynneth shook Amy’s hand. Amy pointed to a small stool that sat in front of her chair and motioned for Gwynneth to take a seat. She did, placing her small hands in her lap and crossing her ankles at the center. She was drawing as much of herself into a ball as possible without seeming rude. “Tell me, Gwynneth Marie, why did you come to Collinwood?”

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”

“Come now, child. You can tell me.” Amy leaned forward and Gwynneth could see a long frown that began to overtake her face. “I know you, although you don’t know it. I know your mother, and I knew her mother. I know her father, although she doesn’t know him. How about that one for a lark! But I know who you are Gwynneth Marie. I want to know why you came back to this place.”

Gwynneth swallowed hard as she eased back into her chair. This woman was creepy, creepier than she had expected her to be. “We...we came here because father’s patron withdrew his support from father’s latest work. We were going to live on that money while father painted. Now we have to stay here while he attempts to find someone new to support his work. When he finds another patron, we’ll leave. Is that okay?”

Amy laughed and fell back into her seat with a thud. Gwynneth had to try her best not to look away. “It’s fine, dear, really it is. I’m just glad you’re leaving. You don’t want to stay here, not for a long time anyway. You see, when you stay here too long, you’re never allowed to leave.”

“I don’t want to stay.”

“And you shouldn’t. You’re a smart girl.” Amy leaned forward and placed her hand on Gwynneth’s forehead. “You are marked, child. So is your mother. So is her brother. So is Daniel. So was Quentin and those who came before him. You all emerge from one line, and that line is damned to a miserable existence.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You won’t...at least not now. You, Gwynneth Marie, are a protector. I take it you have a brother?”

“Yes. His name is William.”

“Poor child. Your brother is a vulnerable one. So was your uncle Josef. Your mother was supposed to protect him but she failed. She was too blinded by her hatred and she had not been well forewarned of the dangers by the only other living protector. You see, Daniel was a vulnerable one and proved himself to be truly vulnerable. Oh, Quentin and I tried to warn him but he didn’t listen to any of it. Look where it got us all, just look!”

Amy fell back into her seat and began to groan in a sing/song manner. For a moment, Gwynneth thought that the woman was crying. But Amy shot back up in her seat, looking as alert as ever. She seemed to be listening to something out in the distance, something that Gwynneth’s young ears were unable to hear. “What is it?” asked Gwynneth wildly. She did not care what it was. She only wanted out of the room.

“Oh, now you tell me,” moaned Amy to unseen intruder. “Now you tell us all of the things you probably you when you returned. He is your son! Why did you not warn him of what would happen? Why did you not appear and tell us all to be on our guard? God Angelique, do you always think of yourself?”

“Angelique?” asked Gwynneth. “Are you in here?”

Amy turned quickly to Gwynneth and moved directly into the girl’s face. “How do you know of Angelique?”

“I talked to her before. I was in her room. She...she had led me there in a dream. I went there and she was standing there, waiting for me. She handed me a picture and said, ‘Know the face of the one you must someday destroy.’ She disappeared after she gave me the picture. I looked at it until my parents came in and told me to leave.”

“I understand. Constance is in denial,” sighed Amy. “That damned therapist ruined her. He took all the thoughts in her head and pushed them to the side to make room for his propaganda.” Amy sat back down in her seat, her face lost in distant contemplation. “Has Angelique attempted to talk to your mother?”

“No, but she said that someone else would try to talk to her. She said that he has already tried to talk with her but that mother blocked him out. She said that he would try again.”

“That is his way. He changed much after all the things happened to him so many years ago. We all thought it was for the better until SHE returned.”

Gwynneth nodded. She started to ask about what had happened but the door burst open, sending light from the hall spilling into Amy’s small room. It was her mother. She walked into the room and stood next to Gwynneth. Constance looked up scornfully at Amy but quickly focused her gaze back down on her daughter. “Leave now, Gwynneth.”

“But we were just...”

“Do as I say, Gwynneth,” warned her mother. “You father is waiting in the hall to take you to your room. Leave now. I have many things to talk over with Amy.”

Gwynneth looked up at Amy. She motioned for the girl to leave. Gwynneth hung her head as she rose from her stool and left the room. Just as her mother had promised, her father was waiting for her in the hall. Gwynneth ran into his arms and hugged him as hard as she could. The moment she entered his arms, Constance slammed and locked the door. Gwynneth started to jump from his grasp and run back inside the room, but he held her back. “Come on, Gwyn. We have to go.”

Gwynneth did not want to leave. She could hear the two women arguing. Their voices were loud and quick with fever. Gwynneth had never heard her mother talk that way with anyone, much less someone who was supposed to be her family. But she quickly resigned herself to the fact that she could do nothing for the woman. Amy was an adult and could take care of herself. Gwynneth fell back into her father’s arms and allowed him to carry her away. But he stopped at the door leading out of the east wing and began to walk back down the hall. He was heading for Angelique’s room. “Why are we going back?”

“I forgot something in here,” he explained. “It’ll only take a moment for me to find it and then we’ll be off.”

Gwynneth sighed and fell back into his arms. As they walked toward the room, Gwynneth noticed that the lights were off. She did not understand. Angelique had told her that the lights were always on in her room. Gwynneth could also hear voices in the room; they were strange voices that at once seemed familiar and then not. The moment they reached the doors, Gwynneth noticed that the lights were once again on. Her father opened the doors and the room appeared as she had left it. He sat Gwynneth down, ran into the room, grabbed something off the mantle, and ran back out. He rammed that something into his coat pocket before he picked Gwynneth back up. On any other day, she would have tried to find out what he had left in Angelique’s room. But this was no other day and Gwynneth had a much better mystery to deal with. She wanted to get back to that room. She wanted to know who had turned out the lights.

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