July 1970 - Page 35

The past several days have proven to be quite uneventful and, for lack of a better word, ordinary—a term rarely applicable to life at Collinwood. I’ve found it to be a blessing though, allowing me an opportunity to catch up on some much needed sleep and regular nutrition. (In fact, I don’t ever remember Mrs. Johnson’s cooking tasting so good). But though my physical and mental health is on the mend, I find that the house is just too quiet, too tranquil—much like the proverbial calm before the storm.

Barnabas and I have been welcomed back with genuine relief and affection, but the family’s reaction to our warning has been disappointing—ranging anywhere from ambivalence to disbelief, and even outright indifference. Carolyn is still in mourning over Jeb’s death, and exhibits only a remote interest in family matters. Quentin seems to exist in a state of perpetual boredom, having little else to do but lament his present lack of female company. And unfortunately, it appears that Elizabeth has become quite adept at avoiding Barnabas and I, so I’ve seen very little of her since we’ve returned. Regrettably, she’s not the only one avoiding us—the children have also managed to maintain a polite, but distinct distance not only from me, but from the other adults in the house as well. It could be argued that it’s just the normal progression of adolescence, but my instincts tell me otherwise.

I can see that David is pleased to have a companion his own age in Hallie Stokes, but I question Eliot’s judgment in allowing her to remain at Collinwood. Although Eliot believes our story, he’s reluctant to remove Hallie just yet, believing we still have time to avert the disaster. But having seen David and Hallie’s ghosts in 1995—looking just as they do now—I do not share his optimism.

So here I sit, hour after hour, pouring over these musty old books and family records, hoping to find something—anything—we can use to convince the family of the urgency of the situation. Unfortunately, the only thing I've found so far, for certain, is that I am still highly allergic to mold. Yet as tiring as it is, I feel Barnabas and I cannot allow ourselves to be lulled into a false sense of security as the rest of the family has done.

I’ve gone over Carolyn’s clues countless times in my mind, and out of all of them, the destruction of Rose Cottage seems to hold the most significance. I don’t know why, but I feel it’s imperative we find out where it is. Thus far I’ve up empty handed, but I’m still convinced that Rose Cottage does exist, perhaps under another name. I must persist until I find it.

Events have begun to occur faster than I anticipated (so much for my last entry). Two of Carolyn’s clues have already come to pass. The night of the sun and the moon apparently referred to a lunar eclipse, which occurred just last night.  And although the night passed without incident, I am still uneasy. When I checked on the children last night they seemed fine, yet I had the distinct feeling they were hiding something. I don’t know Hallie very well, but I’ve never known David Collins to turn down an offer of a boating excursion in favor of doing homework. Yet that was exactly what happened. Is it possible that they’ve already begun to fall under the influence of Daphne Harridge, or even Gerard? And if they’ve seen them, why won’t they tell us? It’s imperative we find a way to gain their trust.

I favor the idea of telling them exactly why we’re so concerned, but Elizabeth will hear none of it. I’m afraid that if I did broach the subject with the children, I’d fall completely out of favor with Elizabeth, and she’d be even less inclined to believe our story. She’s a stubborn woman, and I’m afraid something major, even frightening, will have to happen before she’ll agree to remove the children from the house. All because of that phony horoscope! I find myself missing Roger more and more—his acerbic brand of cynicism might be just what’s needed to talk some sense into Elizabeth.

Now about that horoscope. Barnabas and I discovered tonight that Elizabeth had visited an astrologer, a certain Mr. Sebastian Shaw, for the purpose of drawing up her horoscope for the remainder of this year. Carolyn’s second clue! Quentin pointed out that the horoscope is not unfinished, and I’ll admit that has me puzzled. But I’m nonetheless convinced it is the second clue. The most disturbing part of this whole thing is that the horoscope promises a peaceful, uneventful end to this year—in direct contrast to what Barnabas and I have told the family.

All I can conclude is that the precursors to the disaster have already been put in motion, and for whatever reason, any overt signs have been either overlooked or hidden from us. I’m sure that we must continue to watch the children very carefully—the key to this entire mystery lies with them.
(Episodes 1073 – 1075)

I’ve begun to have some doubts about Quentin. Although he’s been helpful and outwardly supportive, there’s been a subtle change in his demeanor. He’s become enigmatic, aloof, and very distracted.  I thought I saw a flash of recognition when I mentioned Daphne Harridge and the scent of lilacs—but when I questioned him, he denied it.  Perhaps it’s my imagination. I can’t imagine that Quentin would hide anything from us. He knows how important it is, just what’s at stake. I can’t believe he’d do anything to deliberately endanger the children, or any other member of the family.

From the Collins family history, I’ve been able to find out that Tad Collins and Carrie Stokes lived at Collinwood in the year 1840, and that they died at about the same age as David and Hallie are now. Little else is written about them, which makes the events surrounding their lives (and deaths) that much more suspicious. I’ve also found out that Daphne Harridge was governess at Collinwood that same year.  At least now we have a timeline, but still no answers.

We may very well run out of time before we find the answers. This evening as I entered the foyer with Barnabas, a familiar bone chilling cold gripped my entire body. Then, moments later, I heard the faint, but distinct strains of carousel music.

Gerard is here.

I don’t feel his presence as strongly as I did in 1995, but he is in this house—waiting to make his move.
(Episodes 1076 – 1078)

I don’t understand it. Carolyn’s third clue—the picnic—has apparently taken place without incident, just this afternoon. It seems incredulous to me—why haven’t we seen any overt signs of Gerard’s presence yet? I know he is here. Either we are dead wrong about all of this, or people are deliberately withholding information from us. I’ll put my money on the latter. And I now have the distinct feeling that Quentin is one of those hiding things from us.

Convinced that the spirits within the house needed to be put to rest, he attempted an exorcism this evening. Why I went along with it I’ll never know. The curious thing was that while Quentin was hell bent on performing this exorcism, he never actually finished it. Something—or someone—made him stop. Anyway, his theory about benign spirits needing only to find rest was dispelled—in my eyes anyway—when Hallie came downstairs with her arm badly sprained. I’m sure that Quentin’s botched exorcism was to blame for Hallie’s “accident”, and that Quentin’s “benign” spirits have just given us a warning.
(Episode 1079)

It seems the mystery concerning the finished vs. unfinished horoscope has been solved. There was an unfinished horoscope after all—Carolyn’s. Barnabas went to Sebastian Shaw to convince him to finish it, in hopes that it might somehow alter the events we know will inevitably follow. But while Barnabas was unsuccessful on that account, his trip to Mr. Shaw’s was not wasted. Not by any means. As fate would have it, Barnabas met a young woman at Shaw's tonight—a young woman by the name of Roxanne Drew.

It appears that Roxanne Drew exists in this time band as well as the one we left a short time ago, much to Barnabas’ delight. He hadn’t even had time to tell me about her before she’d called to cancel their dinner date (it appears he didn’t waste any time). How ironic that I took the call, for it left me the honor of breaking the news to Barnabas.

When Barnabas arrived, he couldn’t wait to tell me that he’d found her again (as if he expected me to be overjoyed).  Before he could tell me of his encounter, I blurted out that she’d just called to cancel their dinner date. I know my voice was cool, and perhaps a bit smug, but I just couldn’t help it.  Nor did his reaction to the news help to garner any sympathy for his plight. He named Sebastian Shaw as the reason behind her refusal—he just couldn’t accept that the girl just didn’t want to have dinner with him!

“Never without you”—his words to me just a few short days ago still fresh in my mind, now seem empty, meaningless, in the light of his latest infatuation. I don’t know if I’m angrier with him or myself.

In any event, Barnabas is totally convinced that this Roxanne is his Roxanne, the one he’d fallen for so passionately in parallel time. How can he possibly think that? This Roxanne Drew is an entirely different person—a total stranger to him. Given his experiences in parallel time, I shouldn’t have to remind him of that. But judging from his reaction, I’m afraid that trying to convince him otherwise may be an exercise in futility. I’m inclined to just let him find it out on his own.

So here sits the Collins family on the eve of their own destruction, and, in typical Collins fashion, their attention is focused on other matters. Barnabas and Quentin are preoccupied with the opposite sex—Barnabas with the company of a young girl he’s just met and thinks he knows, and Quentin with his present lack of said company. Elizabeth has buried herself in the study of astrology and that ridiculous horoscope of hers, Roger is away in Europe, and poor Carolyn is oblivious to all but her grief over her dead husband. And here I sit, trying to head off this disaster with only six cryptic clues from the future.  Sometimes, I think I’m the one who needs help.
(Episodes 1080 – 1082)

My propensity for outspokenness may have cost us an opportunity for some outside assistance. I could kick myself now, but at the time my anger won out over my patience (which has worn extremely thin). Eliot brought Sebastian Shaw to Collinwood for the express purpose of meeting me, in hopes that his psychic talents might offer some insight into our experiences.  Eliot was convinced that Shaw’s abilities are genuine, but I, of course, was skeptical, particularly after seeing that horoscope he drew up for Elizabeth.

My first impression of Mr. Shaw was not favorable. He was haughty, aloof, even a bit condescending, but I bit my tongue and dutifully recounted our experiences to him (minus a few details, of course). Shaw seemed genuinely fascinated by the existence of other time streams, and particularly with our ability to access them. After hearing me out, he did (somewhat reluctantly) agree to use his clairvoyant abilities to look for Rose Cottage. The results were disappointing. While he apparently had a vision of a room, he couldn’t seem to tell us where it was. I’d hoped for more, but Shaw suddenly became deliberately vague, mumbling that he couldn’t do anything further. He did agree to talk to the children though, and I left the room while Eliot went to get David and Hallie.

It was when I returned to the drawing room that I realized that Sebastian Shaw was not a fraud. He was playing the piano, just picking out a melody really—only it wasn’t just any tune. It was the carousel music, the same melody I’d heard in 1995. When I confronted Shaw he denied it, saying it was something he’d just made up, or some such nonsense. But we both knew there was only one place he could have heard that melody—the children’s playroom. He must have seen it in his vision, but for some reason, he’d chosen to lie about it. His reaction to my accusation only confirmed my suspicions.

In my opinion Sebastian Shaw is a fortune hunter who lines his own pockets with the misfortunes of others. Nonetheless, Eliot still believes he might help us. In any event, I’ll leave Mr. Shaw to Eliot, as I don’t believe he’d be too responsive to me at the moment. I have very little use for people such as Mr. Shaw, but understand the importance of not burning my bridges.
(Episodes 1083 – 1084)

At last, I’ve found something that might be important. I don’t know how it ties in yet, but I found a reference to the mysterious staircase that brought Barnabas and me back here from 1995. It appears our own Quentin had an ancestor by the same name who proposed building just such a staircase in the year 1840. As I read his diary, I became aware of how far ahead of his time the man was. He evidently made his theory regarding time and space a reality, and we became the unwitting beneficiaries.

How it all relates to our present situation is unclear, but I’m relieved to finally have found something—some confirmation of our story. Finding this stairway, however, has proven as impossible as finding the children’s playroom, which now appears to be just a linen closet. Yet, I know it exists, if only we could find the key. And I’m sure that the key lies with the children, and unfortunately, they aren’t talking. I wonder whether they have already discovered the playroom, and if so, why they haven’t told one of us about it. The answer to that may lie with Gerard, who may already be insinuating his influence over them. I shudder to think that has already happened, but must consider it may be a strong possibility.

I once again feel as though we’re fighting a losing battle. Thus far, three of Carolyn’s clues have come to pass with no apparent harmful effects. How many more events will take place before Gerard makes his presence known? Each day that passes brings us closer to disaster, and it frightens me to think how extraordinarily unsuccessful we’ve been in our attempt to head it off. I’m also concerned, not just for altruistic reasons, about how Barnabas will be affected now that he’s met Roxanne Drew. I hope he’ll not lose sight of his priorities, for I feel now as though we are up against not only the evil we faced in 1995, but also the apathy of the Collins family itself. And right now, I sense that apathy might have been what allowed the catastrophe to occur in the first place. I only pray I’m wrong.
(Episodes 1085 – 1086)