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“Toujours” — A Dark Shadows Story

by Barb Lien-Cooper

FOREWORD:

Like a lot of Dark Shadows fans, I was not a fan of the character of Roxanne Drew. I eventually realized that the reason I had no emotional connection to her was that she had just sort of showed up one day in Parallel Time. Usually, when the DS writers introduced a new character, the new character either had a major tie to the Collins family, or a tie to a character on the show that wasn’t a Collins, or the new character would be a major player in the plot that was going to be introduced. None of this seemed to properly apply to Roxanne. The writers had Barnabas say he was falling in love with her, and we, the viewers, were just supposed to accept that idea.

I said to my husband once that I had an idea for a story concerning how Roxanne could’ve been introduced to the audience in a way that might have worked better, which is how this story came to be.

However, much later, as I was writing this story, the idea I had turned into something else: the story of a very unusual friendship.

Let’s say that this story exists in a form of parallel time, where the Martinique romance of Angelique and Barnabas was seen through the eyes of a young girl who, in her own way, loved each them.

I borrowed heavily from three sources in the writing of this story: the novel The Go-Between, Lara Parker’s novel Angelique’s Descent, and Carlotta Drake’s backstory in the film Night of Dark Shadows.

I hope you’ll enjoy my strange (though not particularly frightening) journey into the past.

–The Author

~~~~~~~~~~

My name is Roxanne du Prés.

This is my story.

My grandparents had three children: André, Natalie, and Béatrice.

My grandfather felt that young women were good for one thing only: to be married off to the highest bidder.

My aunt Natalie married a count, and moved to France.

My mother was to be married off to a man twice her age, who owned a sugar cane plantation. He was an odious, abusive beast of a man, but Grandfather didn’t care, as long as the man was rich. After all, Grandfather had started a coffee plantation in Martinique, and what goes better with coffee than sugar?

Mother, however, had different ideas. She fell in love with a young English missionary named Arthur Strack, and she ran away with him.

Grandfather was furious, and disinherited my mother.

My parents died of a fever when I was ten years old.

On her deathbed, my mother told me that I was going to live with her brother, André, with whom she had secretly corresponded over the years.

She told me that as “the poor relation,” I must not be willful, nor disobedient, nor too opinionated. She told me that I must be deferential at all times, and that I must never make a fuss.

I was put on a ship and sent to Martinique.

After a strange and frightening journey, the ship finally arrived at its destination.

Waiting for me was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life.

Bonjour,” said the blonde angel, “are you Roxanne?”

“Yes, I am!” I said. “Are you my cousin Josette, my Uncle André’s daughter? I’d heard that Josette was pretty, but you’re more than pretty—you are beautiful!”

The blonde angel smiled and fluttered her eyelashes, and said: “No, child, I am the Countess du Prés’ personal maid—my name is Angelique, Angelique Bouchard—and I’ve come to take you to the plantation.”

“You are as kind as you are beautiful, Mademoiselle Bouchard,” I said.

“I am kind to those who are kind to me,” said Angelique. “If you are always kind to me, I will make a wonderful friend.”

“Then, because I need a friend, I will always be kind to you,” I said.

She was one of the few people who was kind to me.

My life at the plantation fell into a routine.

I had tutors—because my French was not the best—and my education otherwise was merely that of a missionary’s daughter, no more.

Now, my Aunt Natalie had married a Count Fézensac, but when she had to flee the French Revolution, she started using her maiden name, because she rightly feared that the peasants would be looking for anyone with a memorable last name that matched a member of the nobility, and she had always felt that Fézensac was, after all, a name “très jejune,” so she just started calling herself The Countess du Prés, even when she was safe in the West Indies, because she felt it sounded much better.

I will also mention that the family forced me to always call myself Roxanne du Prés, and not to use my father’s name.

The Countess was quite cruel to me… She said that I had no manners, no grace, no joie de vivre.

Uncle André had very little to say to me.

My cousin Josette was polite enough to me, but she was too busy with her many, many suitors to pay me much mind.

Because my parents had been missionaries in foreign lands, I did not care what race a person was, nor did I care about their economic status. I was a child, and so my only criterion concerning who to like was this: If someone is nice to me, they are good. If someone is cruel to me, they are bad.

Angelique, feeling sorry for me, taught me the feminine graces. She taught me which colors went well with my red hair. She taught me about the current fashions. She taught me which fabrics were well-made and which were not. She taught me about table manners, and how to walk and talk properly.

Therefore, to me, Angelique was a good person.

I was shocked when I learned that the house slaves did not feel the same way.

One, named Antoinetta, said to me: “Oh, Miss Roxanne, Miss Angelique has the face of an angel, the manners of a lady of breeding, but she is dangerous when crossed. She talks to the Petro loa, the fiery lords of voodoo, and she may even have… a connection to the infernal powers.”

I said to Antoinetta that I appreciated her advice and would keep my eyes open, but that for the moment, I still considered Angelique to be my friend.

I think Angelique was kind to me in part because she understood that in my eyes, she wasn’t a servant. In my eyes, she was my superior in every way. I think it did her heart good to know that someone admired her intelligence and worldly ways.

Or maybe, she was simply as lonely as I was.

Later on, I realized that Angelique was also kind to me because I could be of use to her.

For instance, early on, I learned that Angelique also served as Josette’s maid, as well as that of my Aunt.

I also discovered that Angelique was a thief.

Oh, “thief” is too blunt of a word, really. By night, Angelique used to sometimes use Josette’s perfume and borrow Josette’s clothes.

I remember the first day that I had any hint of this, a day when, while looking for Josette so as to tell her that it was time for luncheon to be served, I found Angelique standing in front of Josette’s mirror, holding Josette’s forest-green evening gown in front of her.

When Angelique saw me, in the mirror, standing behind her, she whirled around, her eyes filled with incredible fury. “What are you doing here?!” It was very clear that she wanted me to answer as quickly as possible, and so I stammered out my answer.

Angelique’s face softened. “…We have always been friends, have we not?” she asked me in a much more gentle voice.

I nodded.

“…A friend would not tell the du Prés family about this little incident, would she?” Angelique suggested.

I shook my head. “Of course not!” I said, loudly enough for her to hear, but quietly enough that no one in the hall would hear me. “I like you, and I don’t like them, and I think you’d look beautiful in that gown…”

Angelique made me promise to never tell any other member of the du Prés family about Angelique’s occasional “borrowings” of Mademoiselle Josette’s belongings.

Soon after that, I became Angelique’s lookout, to make sure that no one saw her borrowing clothes nor wearing perfume.

Now, one might ask why a lady’s maid might need fine clothing… The answer was that Angelique also stole Josette’s suitors.

Oh, “stole” may not be the proper term exactly. Josette was very indecisive about whom she should marry, as was her father. Like my grandfather, my Uncle André saw the young women of the du Prés family as assets to be sold to the highest bidder. The man Josette married would have to not only be of the right class, but he also must have what Angelique called “excellent prospects.”

Many suitors were rejected. But even more of them were left waiting for a definite answer from the du Prés family concerning Josette’s hand in marriage.

The young men, growing frustrated with waiting, began to turn their attentions to Angelique.

When Angelique was dressed in fine clothes, she was the equal of Josette in looks and charm. It was easy for Angelique to twist the suitors around her little finger. They gave her tokens of their affection, which pleased Angelique to no end.

Angelique used to use me as a go-between, a messenger between herself and whomever her current admirer might be.

I know that these men never meant much to her. She never really gave her virtue nor her heart to any of them. I believe that she had these men in her life only so that she could tell herself: “If I had Josette’s advantages, I could marry one of these men. Look, even without her wealth, they worship at my feet.”

All that changed when Barnabas Collins became one of my cousin Josette’s suitors.

Barnabas Collins was from America, which, before The United States’ own Revolutionary War, had been a group of British colonies.

I remember Aunt Natalie and Uncle André talking about how they were concerned that revolutionary fervor might eventually come to Martinique. “A slave uprising here would be a horrible massacre…” Aunt Natalie fretted.

Uncle André told her that she was a foolish woman, prepared to flinch at every shadow.

“No, André, I am not,” she insisted. “The Tarot warned me of the revolution in France. The cards do not rule out the possibility of it happening successfully here…”

Uncle André scoffed at her cards.

Natalie turned to Josette, and told her that, since revolution was clearly in the air, perhaps Josette should consider accepting her newest suitor, and thus move to America, to get away from the instability of the Caribbean.

Josette said that she had not even met her suitor, but had only seen a portrait of him, so how could she know if Barnabas was the right one for her?

“The cards know all,” said Natalie, and she started to gather and shuffle her cards for a new spread.

“The cards do not know the human heart,” said Josette.

Now, I should explain about the portrait. When a suitor came from another country to woo Josette, a portrait of said suitor was often sent ahead of the suitor coming to see Josette in person, so as to put a face to a name.

The portrait of Barnabas was a stunning work. He had the most piercing eyes…

“His eyes are so severe,” Josette had said when she first saw the portrait, “as is his face. Oh, yes, he is handsome, it is true, but is he kind?”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s kind, cruel, or otherwise,” said my Uncle André, her father, “his father owns a fleet of ships! If you two marry, the crops from our plantation could easily and cheaply be shipped to many, many ports…”

“Your father is a true romantic,” said Aunt Natalie, raising one eyebrow…

Josette laughed a merry little laugh, tossed her auburn curls, and said: “When I marry, I shall marry for love…”

As for Angelique, she barely glanced at the portrait… whereas I spent hours looking at it. Barnabas was so regal, so strong. He looked like a prince in search of a princess.

One day, catching me staring at the portrait, Angelique teased me: “I see that our little miss is growing up. You have your first crush. It is very sweet…”

I blushed in embarrassment.

Angelique’s voice changed from a teasing tone to a sincere one. “Roxanne, love is a part of life,” she told me. “Don’t feel embarrassed by having human feelings. Your feelings show that you have love in your heart. That is a very good thing indeed. I’m sorry that I teased you. One’s first love is nothing to be ashamed of, and nothing to be shamed concerning.”

“I just think he’s handsome, that’s all…” I said.

“A person’s face does not reveal if there is beauty in that person’s heart,” Angelique told me. “We shall see if this Mr. Barnabas is only beautiful on the outside, or if he has more to him than good looks.”

A few days later, Barnabas sent a charming introductory letter to Uncle André. Uncle André read it aloud to those in the room, which included Josette and Aunt Natalie—and me.

“He writes well, for an American,” Natalie observed to Josette.

“He isn’t the first man who has written a charming letter,” Josette said…

When I returned to my room, Angelique was waiting for me. “Well,” she asked me, “what did the letter say?” She had obviously overheard a little of it, but hadn’t dared to try to eavesdrop on the entire letter, or even most of it.

“He spoke about his father’s role in the American revolution,” I reported, “and how respected the Collins family are in his part of America, and how America is a young nation, a land of opportunity, where all are welcome, and how the nation believes in the equality of all people, as does his family.”

“This man begins to intrigue me,” said Angelique. “I must see this letter for myself…”

“It is in Josette’s room now,” I said, “but if she finds you there reading it, she may not be pleased, because the letter is her property.”

“Then you must find the letter and bring it to me,” said Angelique.

“I cannot steal a letter—that would be wrong,” I said.

“I’m not asking you to steal anything,” said Angelique, “I simply wish to borrow it for a short time.” Her meaning was clear to me—had I not already been party to arguably worse?

“I might get into trouble,” I said.

“I thought we were friends,” Angelique said to me. “Obviously, we are not. From now on, I will simply be your servant.”

She acted coldly toward me until I broke down and begged forgiveness.

“When you do as I have asked,” she said, “then, we shall be jolly friends again…”

While Angelique stood guard, I did as she asked.

We weren’t caught in the act, but the next day, Josette made a huge fuss about the letter being missing. Servants were questioned… I was questioned, too, but Angelique had previously told me that when they questioned me, I was to cry and say, “I can’t believe you’d accuse me, your own cousin, your poor relative, of doing such a thing,” and I did so. They left me alone, claiming I was acting like an immature and tiresome child, younger than my actual years.

The next day, Angelique said to Josette, “Perhaps we should search the room just one more time, Mademoiselle…” To everyone’s astonishment, the letter was indeed found in Josette’s room, which was surprising because Josette was certain that the spot where it was found was somewhere she had looked the day before, and Josette’s room had been kept locked ever since the theft.

“I know that it was not here…” Josette said, puzzled…

“La, what does it matter?” said Angelique, smiling cheerfully. “It is here now, and all is well…”

Later, I asked Angelique how on earth the letter had just reappeared in Joestte’s room like that.

“Maybe the voodoo loa, Erzuli Dantor, feeling generous, put the letter back for us,” Angelique told me.

The thought made me shudder.

After that incident, I found Angelique looking at the portrait of Barnabas a lot more often.

Josette wrote to Barnabas, saying she would be glad to make his acquaintanceship in person.

Barnabas wrote back and said that he would board his father’s fastest ship and be there as soon as the winds would allow. And indeed, the ship arrived a few days before it had been expected to arrive. I ran to tell Angelique the news. She was in Josette’s room, making Josette’s bed.

“What incredible luck!” I said.

“Sometimes, child, we make our own luck,” said Angelique. “Or maybe Bade, the loa of the wind, took pity on Josette’s suitor, and brought him here quickly and safely…” She had an enigmatic smile on her face as she said it.

Antoinetta, who at that moment was helping Angelique to make Josette’s bed, said to Angelique, in French (because the servants did not yet realize that I was now proficient in my understanding of French), “You are becoming more and more of a caplata and less and less of a mambo. Like the bokor, you serve the loas with both hands for your own purposes.”

“Think what you will,” Angelique replied, in English (she’d been using more and more English and less and less French, ever since she had read Barnabas’s letter). “I do not care if you think me to be a caplata.”

“What is a caplata?” I asked, confused.

Angelique shot Antoinetta a very sharp look indeed. “Tell her,” Angelique said to Antoinetta in French, “and I will use a powerful oanga on you. You know I can do it, too.”

Then Angelique turned back to me, and said in English (but still glaring at Antoinetta while speaking): “Caplata is a cruel term that Antoinetta is very sorry that she used. Isn’t that right, Antoinetta…?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Antoinetta fearfully. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

Now, Angelique did turn her full attention to me. “When will he be here?” Angelique asked me. “Here at the plantation, I mean.”

“From what I understand, he should be here momentarily!” I said with excitement, any thought of secrets between Angelique and Antoinetta temporarily gone in my excitement.

La vache! And here Antoinetta and I have to lay out Josette’s clothes and finery…” said Angelique… Then Angelique had an idea. “Roxanne, go to the top of the stairs and be my eyes and ears. What you see, I will see,” she said.

“She is just a child,” Antoinetta said to Angelique in French. “Please don’t use your abilities on a child…”

Ta gueule! If you do not wish to lose your voice completely, you will learn when to speak and when not to,” Angelique replied in French.

Antoinetta looked terrified.

Angelique turned back to me. “Please do as I ask, Roxanne,” Angelique said sweetly.

She looked at me, and I felt compelled to do just as she’d said.

I left the room quickly, confused, and just a little shaken.

I’d heard very vague rumors, amongst the slaves, of Angelique having strange abilities, but until that moment, I’d dismissed the idea as vicious gossip. In fact, perhaps the rumors were gossip that Angelique used to her advantage to intimidate others…

…but if that was all they were, why did I feel that I had to do as she had said?

As I sat down at the top of the stairs, I felt lightheaded, as if I was half asleep.

Then the door opened, and I saw him.

Barnabas.

The portrait had come to life.

He was dressed in black—fashionable, but not ornately dressed.

His voice was like a melody, neither too high, nor too low. He reminded me of a Shakespearian actor from a traveling company I’d seen once. Barnabas would have made an excellent Hamlet.

He was polite to Uncle André.

He put up with Aunt Natalie’s barbs and criticisms, sometimes giving back as good as he got.

He said the sweetest things to Josette. I felt a jealousy inside of me that I wasn’t sure was my own.

Then, Barnabas looked my way. “You’ve been hiding a member of your family from me,” he said in a kindly way.

I was caught.

He bade me to come down and talk to him.

“This is Roxanne, a poor relation,” Aunt Natalie said dismissively, shooting daggers at me with her eyes.

“Roxanne, what a lovely name,” Barnabas said, taking my hand.

“It means ‘bright, shining,’ and ‘radiant,’” I said.

Now Josette shot daggers at me with her eyes.

Barnabas seemed not to notice. “Most appropriate,” he said. “How old are you, child?” he asked.

“She’s thirteen, a most unlucky number,” Aunt Natalie sniffed.

“If you were only five years older, Miss Josette would have a rival for my affections,” Barnabas said to me. “One family having not one but three Titian-haired beauties in it is almost an embarrassment of riches,” Barnabas said, glancing at Josette and Natalie. I had always felt that Josette’s hair was barely auburn, let alone red, but I supposed that there was just enough copper in it that the remark made sense.

Natalie tossed her head proudly, as if the complement had been spoken for her alone. “I have always felt that my hair is one of my finest attributes…”

Uncle André ordered me to leave, as I was embarrassing Barnabas.

Barnabas gave my hand a little squeeze. “Well, I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Roxanne. I’m sure we will be friends—good friends.”

Uncle André hinted just a little harder that I was to go to my room and do my schoolwork that my tutor had given me that morning before he’d left.

When I got to my room, though, Angelique was waiting for me. “He is kind and charming,” Angelique said.

“Yes, he is,” I replied.

“To show such grace to a stranger, let alone a child, is uncommon,” she added.

“I’m sure he and I will be good friends,” I said.

…However, in the following days, I was not allowed to see much of Barnabas. Aunt Natalie told me that she didn’t want me to embarrass the family by my “being around underfoot.”

I said that Barnabas was not embarrassed by me…

“…He was only being kind,” sniffed Aunt Natalie.

In the following days, I did not see much of Angelique, either, although I had no idea where she was keeping herself.

If she’d been around, I would have asked her if she knew what had happened to one of my dolls.

I was too old to play with dolls, but I had a small collection of them that I treasured as a reminder of my parents and my childhood in general. And then I had one more doll, a lovely doll with brownish-orange hair and a China face and hands, which I had named Josette, because Josette had given the doll to me—and that doll was the one that had gone missing. I was not pleased to find her gone, because I had wanted to ask Angelique to mend the doll’s dress, which had gotten a rip in it.

One day, I learned why Angelique had been so absent.

The morning started with an announcement that Josette was going to show Barnabas around the island. Josette beamed a happy smile.

That smile soon turned to a grimace of pain. “My head hurts…” Josette said.

Comme c’est tragique…” Aunt Natalie said to her.

“I can’t go out today,” Josette said quietly, wincing. “I’ll have Angelique put rosewater on a cloth and have her massage my head…”

Angelique helped Josette upstairs.

After they left, the rest of us finished breakfast. Uncle André then got up from the table, and said, “I’m busy with business, so I can’t show Barnabas around, so it’s up to you, Natalie, to do the honors.”

“Oh, no, I cannot—I want to consult the cards concerning Josette’s health…” said Aunt Natalie.

“That can wait,” said Uncle André, not entirely hiding his irritation.

“No, it cannot,” said Aunt Natalie.

Then, Angelique came back into the room. “Mademoiselle Josette is resting comfortably. May I suggest that Mademoiselle Roxanne take her place?”

“Mm, that seems somewhat improper,” said Uncle André. “The age difference…”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but I could be their chaperone,” Angelique said. I noticed that Angelique already had her hat, cloak, and purse with her.

Uncle André looked at Aunt Natalie. “He will be here any minute now,” he said to her. “Angelique’s idea seems sound enough to me…”

Aunt Natalie sighed. “Agreed,” she said.

Fifteen minutes later, Barnabas, Angeligue, and I were sitting in a carriage, off to show Barnabas the sights of Martinique.

Barnabas sat in the middle of the coach. He’d insisted on doing so, saying: “The two charming ladies deserve to have the window seats.”

“Mademoiselle Roxanne will be our tour guide,” Angelique said.

As I pointed out the window, remarking on various buildings and historical sites, I noticed that Barnabas was not saying much. Neither was Angelique.

No wonder they weren’t, I realized. They were holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes.

So that’s how things are… I thought.

I felt jealous… but not as jealous as I would have felt if Josette had been holding Barnabas’ hand.

Then I said something that got Barnabas’ attention: “Over there, you can see the field slaves working…” I said, pointing…

Barnabas looked over, quickly, and then frowned. “No man deserves to be a slave. In my country, we are having troubles because the South has slaves and the North, increasingly, does not.”

“Your country sounds more civilized than mine,” I said.

“Perhaps,” said Barnabas. “Although, your country has much beauty in it…” He was looking at Angelique when he said it.

“So, your family has no slaves?” I asked.

Barnabas frowned again. “No,” he said. “Although my family has one indentured servant, a man named Ben Stokes.”

“What’s an indentured servant?” I asked.

“It’s much like a slave, but for less time,” Barnabas replied. “Ben was accused of a crime, and was sentenced to be my father’s servant. My uncle Jeremiah and I have both begged my father to release Ben, but my father refuses to do so. I am not pleased with my father’s decision, but I… respect my father too much to go against his wishes.”

“Up to and including marrying whom he wishes you to marry?” Angelique asked.

Barnabas sighed. “If and when I marry, I will only marry for love, no matter what my father says or does.”

Toujours l’amour,” Angelique said quietly.

“Yes,” Barnabas agreed. “Always, eternal love.”

I sighed, and went back to looking out the window. I knew that Barnabas and Angelique’s conversation was too complicated, too coded, for me to fully understand.

Then the carriage hit a bump in the road. Angelique’s purse fell to the floor of the carriage—and it opened, and my missing doll slid out, the doll I had named Josette after my cousin who had given it to me.

The doll had a pin stuck in her head.

“Josette!” I said.

“Josette?” Barnabas asked, puzzled.

“She named her doll after Mademoiselle Josette,” Angelique said, taking back her purse.

“Why does she have a pin in her head?” I asked.

“Oh, dear! I’m so sorry,” said Angelique. “You had mentioned that you wanted me to fix the doll’s dress—I did so with pretty little stitches, see? Then I put the doll in my purse—I was going to surprise you. I must have had a pin in my purse.” She pretended to speak to the doll for just a moment: “I’m so sorry, little Josette. Here, let me take the pin out of her head—” Angelique removed the pin, and handed the doll back to me.

“Oh, thank you so much!” I said admiringly. “Her dress is now perfect…!”

“You’re more than welcome,” said Angelique.

“What an amazing thing you have done,” Barnabas said to Angelique.

“…What do you mean?” Angelique asked, her voice wary.

“The idea, that you would take the time to fix a doll’s dress for a child,” Barnabas said to her.

Angelique relaxed. “Of course. Mademoiselle Roxanne is my friend,” she said.

I smiled.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Barnabas replied to Angelique. “I do not think the rest of her family treats our Roxanne properly. Then again, I think that the same could be said of their treatment of their servants, not to mention their slaves. If I’m lucky enough to become part of Miss Roxanne’s family, I shall make sure that the situation improves.”

“…The word ‘if’ so often leads to heartache, I find,” said Angelique.

Barnabas shrugged uncomfortably, uncertain how to reply.

“Isn’t there a poem that says ‘Count not thy chickens that hatchéd be’?” Angelique asked.

“There is another saying,” said Barnabas, “that says that faint heart never won fair lady.”

“You have more than one fair lady that thinks the world of you,” Angelique said to him. “And while you talk with me, our Roxanne is being ignored. We will talk poetry later. For now, let’s let our Roxanne continue to show us around this beautiful island.”

I smiled to myself. I liked that Angelique and Barnabas called me “our” Roxanne. I’d never felt I’d really belonged to anyone, but at that moment, I felt that I belonged to the two people I cared most about in this world.

At the end of the day, Barnabas kissed my hand and said, “The company of two charming young women makes the pain of not seeing Miss Josette lessen in my heart. Thank you for the wonderful day.”

“Yes,” Angelique then said to me, “I want to thank you for the wonderful day as well. Please give me your doll, so I can make her some new clothes. When the dressmaker made Mademoiselle Josette’s clothes, she left enough scrap material to make some lovely outfits for your doll…”

Gratefully, I nodded, and gave Angelique back my doll.

Later that day, I found Aunt Natalie sitting in the parlor, frowning over her tarot cards. “I do not understand it,” she said. “The cards keep giving me the Moon card, which means, the cards do not know why Josette had a headache.”

I pointed at another card. “What does the card with the man and the woman and the angel mean?” I asked.

“Oh, that is the Lovers card,” said Aunt Natalie.

“So… that represents Barnabas and Josette, I suppose,” I said.

“Let us hope. The Lovers card represents a man having to make a choice of some kind,” said Aunt Natalie.

“Between two women?” I asked.

Aunt Natalie laughed. “No, Barnabas only has eyes for Josette. Unless he is secretly in love with moi, I doubt that there is anyone else.”

I said nothing. The relationship amongst the adults in my life was none of my concern.

Over the next several days, poor Josette had several more headaches. When Barnabas found out that Josette was still ailing, he asked to sit by her bedside with her. Aunt Natalie said that that would be improper, although Josette appreciated his devotion. Aunt Natalie said that she would sit by Josette’s bedside. Barnabas asked if I could—with Angelique as chaperone, again, of course—be his tour guide around the plantation.

Aunt Natalie, distracted and distressed about Josette, reluctantly agreed.

The next days were heaven, not just for me, but for Angelique. I believe Barnabas had a lovely time, too, or at least he said he did.

Barnabas and Angelique walked closely together, but did not hold hands, nor did they walk arm in arm. However, I could tell that they both longed to do so.

I wondered how long the situation could go on, but I put those thoughts out of my mind, because I was with my two favorite people in the world.

After a while, I asked Angelique about my doll. Barnabas was curious about “little Josette,” too, so Angelique showed Barnabas and me “little Josette” in a white gown with a veil.

“So… has the dressmaker made Miss Josette a wedding gown, as well?” Barnabas asked.

Angelique bit her lip and nodded.

“I see…” was all Barnabas said.

“Oh, dear,” I said, “you did it again, Angelique.”

“Oh? What did I do?” Angelique asked.

“There’s another pin in little Josette’s head,” I said, pointing.

“Oh, that! I wanted your doll to have the bridal veil, but I didn’t know how to keep the veil attached, so I used the pin,” said Angelique.

“Well, that’s all right,” I said, “I’ll just take it out when I get to my room. I intend to put little Josette on the shelf again, and since I have no need to play with her, she won’t need the pin to hold the veil on.”

“As you wish,” Angelique said.

“Why don’t you go and do that right now?” Barnabas suggested to me. “Then, when you come back, we can all have lunch?”

I nodded, and took little Josette back to my room.

When I returned, Barnabas and Angelique were embracing one another. I decided to hide, since I didn’t want to startle them.

Then they shared a kiss—a long one.

“…Always and forever,” Angelique said when the kiss ended.

“The present is all we have,” said Barnabas.

“The present is all anyone has,” said Angelique. “For me, that is enough.” I wondered exactly how she meant that, but then they started kissing again.

I retraced my steps up the path a while, and then I started walking toward them again, this time making plenty of noise so they’d hear me, calling: “…Barnabas, where are you…?”

“Over here, Roxanne,” Barnabas called back from exactly where I already knew he and Angelique were.

They were, of course, careful not to even stand too close to one another when I came into their sight. “We’ve missed you,” Angelique said to me.

“Let’s go to the dining room and have lunch,” I said.

One day, Barnabas asked to speak to me alone. “I have a special gift,” he said, “that I need you to give to someone near and dear to my heart.”

I promised him I would deliver his gift.

I brought his small present to Angelique. When she unwrapped it, it turned out to be a small silver locket in the shape of a heart, a locket with a tiny portrait of Barnabas painted inside it. Engraved on the back was one word: Toujours.

Angelique smiled.

Later, Barnabas asked how his gift had been received. “Angelique smiled,” I reported happily.

“…Angelique?” Barnabas asked.

“Who else do you have that is as near and as dear to you as Angelique?” I asked.

Barnabas started to say something, then changed his mind and started to say something else… and then he just sighed, and thanked me for doing what he’d asked. “After all,” he said, “it is the thought that counts.”

Then disaster struck.

One day when I was walking in the garden with Barnabas and Angelique, a blood-sucking insect bit me— I didn’t see it, but I felt it. It was probably a mosquito, perhaps a tick or something else… When I slapped it away from my neck, there was blood…

In a very short period of time, I became very ill.

I was feverish, bedridden, and, at times, delirious.

I do remember Angelique sitting by my bedside, insisting that I drink a medicinal tea that she said her mother had taught her to make. “It’s made from the freshest water I could find, so you must drink it,” she told me. “It will help you sleep, my dear…”

I drank the tea, then I started drifting off into a very light sleep.

As I moved in and out of sleep, at one point I heard Angelique say: “Brav Gede, I beg that you do not let this child be sent to your graveyard. I ask the Simbi, the loa of fresh water, who are knowledgeable concerning all illnesses, to make this tea work a miracle.”

“…What did you say…?” I murmured.

“I said a prayer, that is all. Now, sleep,” Angelique told me.

I slept, but again, it was very light.

At one point, Barnabas came into my room. “How is the child?” he asked.

“She is not doing as well as I’d like, but I gave her a special tea, and she rests,” Angelique said.

“She must get well,” said Barnabas. “She reminds me so much of my sister Sarah. They both have such sweet souls…”

“Did you only come here to inquire about Roxanne’s health? Or do you have words for me?” Angelique asked him.

“No words at all. I cannot think of anything to say,” he said. “We… you have been so good to me… I am grateful…”

“Would a grateful man leave the woman who has been so good to him?” Angelique asked.

“I must return to America,” he said. “My father needs to know about…”

I drifted off to a deeper sleep, and I did not hear, or at least not remember, his next words.

I got better, but for a while, I was cut off from any news about Barnabas, Josette, or Angelique.

It was a lonely time, to say the least, with only house slaves to sit by my side. Antonietta was the servant that was there the most.

Fortunately for me, Antonietta was a bit of a gossip. She told me that Barnabas had gone back to America—that he had come to say goodbye to me before he left, but I was too feverish and delirious to talk to him.

“So he is gone now?” I asked.

“Yes. They say that Miss Josette is inclined to accept his proposal of marriage,” Antonietta told me.

“Josette? He can’t marry Josette. He loves Angelique!” I said.

“He may love her, or he may not,” said Antoinetta. “Love does not necessarily mean marriage. Angelique has nothing to offer him. Josette has everything to offer him.”

“Angelique has her love to give him,” I said.

“Perhaps she gave her love to him too freely… a man may have relations with a woman like that, but he may not be inclined to marry her,” Antonietta said.

“That hardly seems right,” I said.

“That’s what happens when a servant has thoughts above her station,” Antonietta shrugged.



~~~~~~~~~~

As I got better, I was allowed to walk around the plantation.

I saw little of Josette or Natalie. Whenever I did, they were busy talking of Josette’s wedding.

“So, Josette accepted Barnabas’ wedding proposal,” I said to Antonietta.

“Yes, she did,” said Antonietta.

“Will the wedding be here?” I asked.

“No, it shall be in America,” said Antonietta.

I begged Aunt Natalie to let me go with her to the wedding, but I was told that I was too young and too frail from my recent illness to go.

“In any event,” said Aunt Natalie, “I will not be alone, for I shall have Angelique with me. I begged Josette to let me go with her on her ocean voyage, but she is young, and stubborn, and went on ahead of me. However, with a good wind and a fast boat, I should be in America in time for the wedding ceremony.”

When Antonietta helped me back to my room, she whispered to me: “She is a fool to bring Angelique with her. Angelique will only cause trouble. Fortunately, Josette will arrive before Angelique does, and if Monsieur Barnabas is smart, he will keep his distance from his former love. I will not feel good about the situation until Barnabas and Josette are man and wife. After that, even Angelique…” Antoinetta did not finish her thought aloud.

“You don’t like Angelique, do you?” I asked.

“It is not a matter of like or dislike. I am frightened of her,” Antonietta said.

“Why? She is a servant. You are a servant,” I said.

“Angelique is a servant to powers that I am not in service of,” Antonietta said.

“Are you saying that Angelique is a witch?” I asked.

Antonietta spat on the ground, and crossed herself. “Do not speak of such things, child,” she said.

Over the next few days, Aunt Natalie packed her many, many trunks, and prepared for the ocean voyage.

I was allowed to accompany Aunt Natalie and Angelique to the docks.

When it came time for them to get on the boat, Angelique took the locket that had Toujours written on it, and she gave it to me.

“You always thought this to be so pretty,” Angelique told me, putting it around my neck. “Keep it until we meet again.”

I couldn’t help it: I gave Angelique a big hug.

Aunt Natalie (who had not seen Angelique giving me the locket) told me that such a display of emotions concerning a mere servant was nothing if not unseemly.

I started to get upset with my Aunt, but Angelique’s words stopped me: “Now, now, none of that. Someday, Roxanne, I promise you, somehow, we will meet again,” she told me quietly. “Perhaps not in this lifetime, perhaps not in ways that we might wish, but since the soul is immortal, and may live many, many different lives, I know that we shall encounter each other again.”

Angelique let go of me, and then she followed Aunt Natalie onto the ship.

~~~~~~~~~~

That was the last time I ever saw Angelique.

~~~~~~~~~~

I never found out many details concerning Barnabas, Angelique, nor Josette.

Apparently, Josette died. Aunt Natalie refused to say more about that subject.

Barnabas and Josette did not get married before Josette died.

Barnabas—from all the information I could get out of anyone—went to England.

Rather than refusing to talk about it, no one seemed to even know exactly what had happened to my Angelique.

~~~~~~~~~~

I am an old woman now. Surely, Barnabas and Angelique are now as dead as Natalie, André, and Josette are.

After my uncle and aunt eventually passed away, I ended up being the one who inherited the plantation.

I freed the slaves, sold the land, took on Antonietta as my servant and my friend, and we traveled the world.

The first place I went to was Collinsport.

I was gladly received by Barnabas’ grown-to-adulthood cousin, Daniel Collins, and his wife Harriet.

I asked Daniel about Barnabas, but Daniel told me that he would never tell a living soul what happened, as it was the family’s biggest secret.

He did tell me that Barnabas and Angelique had been married, so perhaps the two of them went to England to live. Daniel wouldn’t say.

I asked Daniel if there’d been any indication that my Angelique had magical powers.

In a moment of bitterness, Daniel told me that his guardian’s greatest regret—in a life of many—was that an innocent woman had been hanged as a witch when the real witch had married into the family and cursed them all to great unhappiness.

I told him that my Angelique would do no such thing.

He became guarded once more, and told me that he only knew what he’d heard from his legal guardian, Joshua Collins, Barnabas’ father.

Seeing that I wasn’t going to get any more of the story out of Daniel, I thanked him for being a good host, and made arrangements to board a ship to England.

However, when I traveled to England, I found that not a living soul there knew of anyone named Barnabas Collins. I even had professional investigators make inquiries, but to no avail.

~~~~~~~~~~

I settled down eventually, marrying a man named Sebastian Drew. He was handsome and kind. He made me happy enough.

But… he was no Barnabas.

Sebastian and I had two children, whom I love. I have grandchildren, now, too, and they are sweet and loveable.

I lived a good life, as lives go.

Eventually, Sebastian died, leaving me an even wealthier woman than before.

A few years ago, Antonietta got sick and died. Before she died, though, she said that she was overjoyed that, unlike so many in Martinique, she had lived a life that included her freedom.

“You gave me that, Mrs. Drew,” she said. “And for that, I pray that you find whatever it is you’re looking for out of life.”

For all of the good that has been in it, at the end of my life, I still feel a huge hole in my heart.

All I have left of the two people I loved most in life is a locket, and a witch’s assurance that, somehow, someday, we will meet again.

I have vowed that, if many, many lifetimes exist, my soul will travel and travel, until I meet Barnabas and Angelique again.

May we meet under more favorable circumstances than we did before.