Judith looked at the young girl. She
was simply beautiful, no denying it. She was so completely the
daughter of her parents. Her thick auburn hair so much like Jenny's.
Her wide, sky-blue eyes as vivid as her father's. Judith felt
a stab of guilt. This girl was her niece. She was as much a Collins
as Jamison was. Yet she had grown up outside the gates of Collinwood,
ignorant of her heritage. As Judith began to speak, Lenore angrily
interrupted her.
"Judith, I know why you want to speak with me, and my mind's
made up, already. I love Jamison, and we planned to be married!
With or without your approval! There's nothing your brother hasn't
said before that could change my mind."
Judith controlled her own rising anger. What she would have to
say would be painful for the girl. Perhaps painful as well for
herself.
"Lenore, I'm very sorry. My approval or anyone's in this
family is really of no value now. I don't know how else to tell
you, so I must put it simply." Judith paused, leveling her
gaze into Lenore's questioning eyes.
"You can't marry Jamison. He is your cousin."
Lenore gasped. "What are you telling me?"
"Did you know you were adopted?"
"Yes, I knew. Nanna.... Mrs. Fillmore, she raised me like
a daughter but I always knew I was adopted.
What are you telling me, I'm a Collins?"
Judith sighed wearily. "Yes. You are the daughter of my brother,
Quentin Collins. You and your twin were adopted out to Mrs. Fillmore
to raise as her own."
Lenore was shocked beyond belief. A Collins? Jamison her cousin?
Why? Her mind screamed for answers. She stared hard at Judith.
"I don't understand, Judith. Why did all this happen?"
"So many things happened then, Lenore. We were.... like a
family at war against itself. It's harder to understand now, at
least for myself. I haven't thought of any of this in many years.
It's very hard to discuss the details."
Lenore stood indignantly. "This is my life we're talking
about, Judith. Before I walk away from Collinwood and never return,
I'd like to know something about my parents. I'll never see Jamison
again. You owe me at least `the details'."
"Lenore, I'm very sorry. Please, if it will help I'll tell
you what I can. None of this is the way any of us would have wished."
Judith stood and walked to the fireplace, warming herself as she
began to remember the events of 1897.
"Your father, Quentin, was the black sheep of the family.
He was very handsome and charming. His eyes were as blue as yours,
you know. But he drank too much, gambled, and chased after women.
He met your mother in Monte Carlo. Jenny was very beautiful. But
she was as quick-tempered as he and when the money ran out, they
came back to Collinwood. They weren't happy here, together. They
fought constantly. She became withdrawn and Quentin became restless.
Then he ran off."
Lenore grew wistful. This was not the romantic vision of her parents
she had so often envisioned. In a soft voice she asked, "Why
did he run off?"
Judith hesitated. Even now she still felt the pull of the Collins
abhorrence of dirty laundry. But she promised the girl the truth
and she was determined to give her at least that.
"Quentin had an affair with Laura, Edward's wife. When Edward
discovered it, Grandmama gave Quentin money and ordered him to
leave. He ran off, leaving Jenny behind. Laura followed him and
died in Egypt, shortly afterwards. Quentin never knew your mother
was pregnant. None of us did at the time."
"But what happened to my mother? Why did she leave us for
adoption?"
"Your mother was never the same, Lenore. She was so.... distressed,
when Quentin left. She went insane. It was then we discovered
she was pregnant. We kept her at home here, and when you were
born, Edward and I thought it best to...allow an adoption."
Lenore was horrified. She pictured her mother watching her handsome
young husband making love to his own sister-in-law and then running
off, leaving her behind to slowly grow mad. Had she ever been
aware of the birth? Had she grieved at the death of Lenore's infant
brother? She felt a flash of hatred for her father. And Judith...how
could she and Edward just give away their own niece and nephew?
Was shame stronger than blood?
Lenore was determined to know her mother's final ending. She imagined
a tormented woman locked up in some back wardroom for the insane.
Or had she died, perhaps taken her own life? She locked an icy
blue gaze on Judith. "My mother, Judith...where is she now?"
Judith sighed again. The girl had the same look Quentin had, when
angered. And like her father, she was stubborn. Turning to look
out through the parlor windows, she steeled herself and resumed
the story.
"When Quentin came home, he didn't know about you or that
your mother was still at Collinwood, insane. She got out of her
room one night and tried to stab him. He was in the arms of the
maid, Beth, then...Quentin could never stand to be alone long
without female companionship... He struck back and killed her.
He never meant to kill her, Lenore. I do believe that."
Lenore sat quietly through the story, listening yet finding it
hard to accept. Her girlhood fantasies about her parents never
included this scenario. She'd always imagined a romantic young
couple tragically torn from life. Not a father who drank and womanized
and killed her mother, even if by accident. It all seemed so darkly
gothic, a cautionary tale learned as a schoolgirl. Not the heritage
of her dreams. And Jamison? My God, had he known, she thought?
She'd heard him mention his uncle which such obvious affection
yet reluctance at the same time. She would have married him...if
she'd never known she'd be married now to her own cousin.
Judith turned towards the girl with a beseeching look. "I
am sorry, Lenore. None of this is a pretty story. You asked for
the truth and I gave it. I do hope you understand why you cannot
marry Jamison now."
"Judith, I understand why I can't marry Jamison. I see, too,
why you told me instead of him. None of you could bring yourself
to let him know how tarnished your precious Collins name is. Very
clever. So you told me, knowing I could never break his heart
by telling him all this."
"Lenore....what will you tell him?", Judith asked quietly.
Her voice grew low. "I'll tell him I admire him very much
but I'm not in love with him." She turned to Judith with
an angry glare. I don't think you know how much this hurts."
Lenore's eyes filled with hot, hateful tears.
"All my childhood, I fantasized about being a Collins. Every
village child did. Like it would be something special. A magical
family where everyone was golden and loved. Now I see how it really
is. Scandal swept under the carpet and those who fall from grace
are conveniently disposed of. Now I'm a Collins, too...thank God,
no one will ever know!"
Judith was moved by the girl's retort. She though of her own parents
dead, so long ago. How she missed them as a child. This girl had
never known hers. Now her dreams of marriage and her childhood
visions of her parents were both ended. She wished suddenly, there
was something of comfort to give her.
Lenore thought of her father. Where was he now? How could he have
returned only to leave her behind?
"What happened to my father, then? Is he still alive? Why
did he go away again?"
Judith looked into the girl's wounded eyes and responded gently.
"He did want to bring you home to Collinwood, after he knew
of your birth. He fought with Edward over it, as I recall. But
then Beth died, and Quentin seemed to change. As if he matured
suddenly, in some ways. There were many things going on then,
in Collinwood. In my own life as well. He came to me one night
and told me he was leaving, He asked me to promise to always provide
for you. He seemed sad and troubled. He never came back, Lenore.
I don't know where he might be today. I've always supposed now
that he might have died. He left Collinwood so many times before,
but he always came back."
Lenore felt her anger at her father subsiding. He must have been
overwhelmed with guilt, she thought. Is that why he left? Did
it drive him away from his ancestral home forever? What drove
him to do the things he had done?
"Judith...I feel so angry at him knowing all this but I guess
too, I feel sorry for him as well. The guilt he must have suffered.
Do you think that's why he never came back? Why he did the things
he did?"
Judith thought of Quentin. How many times had he exasperated her?
The scandals and intrigues he'd caused through the years had rocked
Collinwood with disorder. She realized she was feeling angry at
Quentin now, for putting her in this position of hurting this
lovely young girl.
She sighed again and looked inward. She relaxed her memories to
an earlier time and remembered a tow-headed, sunny little brother.
A boy of three who laughed when she tickled him and cuddled sweetly
in her lap at story time. She had loved him then. Loved to race
up to the nursery which she had outgrown, and wait for him to
get ready for play. His bright morning chatter was already indicative
of his later adult charm. Where did their enmity start? She felt
a hot stab of pain as her memories flooded back. Their parent's
death by shipwreck. Quentin and Carl, toddlers who did not seem
to understand. They cried for their mother and refused to be comforted.
Judith was the oldest. She kept a stern demeanor as befitted her
place.
Someone had to take control. Grandmama and Grandpapa were kindly
but haphazard with their child-rearing. Quentin and Carl grew
spoiled. Quentin especially, now a wild, restless little boy.
One night alone in her bedroom, her grief for her parents swelled
over and as her body was racked with sobs, Quentin popped up from
behind the bed. His bright, quizzical face was smeared with chocolate,
having stolen Judith's bedside treats once again. She looked at
him with a blinding hatred. How dare he had seen her in her weakness!
She drew back her hand and slapped him hard. Tears welled in Quentin's
eyes and he ran quickly out.
Nothing was said by either of them, after that. But things changed
between them. She had become to feel uncomfortable in his presence.
Anything she could not control she began to disdain, and Quentin's
very soul seemed untamable. He often played alone, now. Carl was
too cowardly for Quentin's adventurous nature and she and Edward
would exclude Quentin from their well-ordered play. She remembered
seeing him at times, from the window of her room, climbing Widow's
Hill alone. She would shade her eyes from the sun as she watched
his determined, solitary figure outlined against the cliff. She
oftened wondered then, if he was lonely.
He hadn't really been born bad, she thought. The loss of their
parents probably brought out the worst in all of them. She had
grown cold. Edward had grown pompous. Carl sought refuge in childishness.
And Quentin? His looks, charm and wildness led him down deeper
and darker paths. Judith turned to Lenore and touched her shoulder.
"Lenore....your father was one of those men born with a certain
wildness inside. He wasn't all bad. He never could have been for
your mother to have loved him so. It's hard to understand why
he did the things he did but I don't think even he understood,
himself. In the end, he tried to do the right thing. He wanted
very much to raise you here but I think he realized he couldn't
settle down. And to leave you here..in a family as we were then...I
think he knew it was the right decision."
Lenore took comfort in this. She had begun to get a sense of her
father. Despite his wild ways there was something sad about him
and maybe it was that sadness that drove him away.
"Yes...yes, I think you're right. Judith....this wasn't easy
for both of us, was it? Thank you for being so honest..and understanding.
I want you to know that this will remain a secret for me. It's
enough now, knowing the truth."
Judith took the girl's hands. "Lenore, if there's anything
you need. Anything at all..."
"Oh no, the trust fund takes ample care of me. At least now
I know it's origin. You never neglected me in that sense. I'm
sure Jamison told you, Judith. I attended Wellesley, and now I
want to teach. There's nothing I need now."
Judith felt very old suddenly. Her control was cracking and as
she stood here, in the face of this young girl's angry and sad
quest for identity, she felt her own responsibility for this fractured
family.
"Lenore...you are family...you are my niece. Nothing can
ever repair what has happened. But please know, I wish the best
for you."
"Thank you, Judith." Lenore sighed. "Do you know,
I've a feeling that someday my father will come back. Isn't that
odd? That some day he'll come home to Collinwood. Maybe it's just
being here now, and knowing I was conceived in these walls...maybe
it's just being where I can feel something of his presence."
"Perhaps so, dear. If he's still alive somewhere, I should
think he'd come home."
Lenore left the estate lost in thought, not looking back at all
as the carriage met the main road to town. She kept her eyes on
the familiar cobbled road and the rising buildings along the coast
as further back, the gates of Collinwood closed with a heavy groan.
Judith returned to the parlor for a last nightcap. She gazed out
over the darkening grounds of Collinwood and thought again of
Quentin. Was he out there alone somewhere? Had he been lying long
and silently in some unknown grave? Wherever he was, she wished
him well, at last. At sleep that night she dreamed of storms over
Widow's Hill, and a small boy who took the hand of his older sister
as they walked home.