Eagle Hill, 1897 is seemingly peaceful from the outside. This has been a busy year for the caretakers. There have been many deaths and burials this year. Some deaths have been natural and peaceful; others have not. For those that have been murdered or have died in an unexpected accident, there is no peaceful rest. Some spirits suffer the shock of being suddenly torn from their earthly bodies and suffer from confusion and denial, wandering, unable to rest. Others have a reason they must remain bound to earth. This is the story of one spirit who stays restlessly for both reasons….

Where is this place, and who are all of you? I was floating above myself, looking down, feeling the air being squeezed out of my throat. Then there was a beautiful yellow light spilling down from the sky. When I looked up, I saw my mother smiling down to me. She held her arms out to me, and I wanted to go to her...but I couldn't. I couldn't because of the babies, you see-I need to protect them. Oh! Wait! I'll be right back....

I feel as though I am running up a steep flight of stairs; gasping, it seems like I'll never reach the top. I have to stop her! I know she means well, but she doesn't know what she's doing! No, Magda, no don't do it! It's not what I want! You don't understand about the babies....

I am too late, too late. There is no way I can go to my mother now. My babies are in danger for all time, now. I can't hate Magda; she didn't know how destructive she was being by casting a curse on Quentin. She acted out of what she thought was love for me, but it was really out of hatred for the Collinses and what they did to me.

Some of you are Collinses, too, are you not? Yet, you are not able to rest either. I cannot because I must protect my babies from what they might become. I can see what will happen. I have not been able to see so clearly for most of the years that I was alive. Now that I am not, I am whole for the first time since I was a child. Does that sound mad? Yet, I tell you that now I am sane, and I see everything that happened as one complete mind. I will tell you as long as I feel the babies are in no danger. You must understand, that I will fly away the moment I sense something is going wrong.

I remember the rumble of the wagons as we travelled on the road. We were never welcome anywhere. We were gypsies, despised by townspeople because they thought we were thieves. We weren't. We were loud and boisterous people, and we were free as the wind. We didn't settle anywhere. We were nomads, like the ancient tribes were. We went with the weather, and we made a little money here and there singing and dancing. My mother was a fortune teller.

There was always something different about me, and I never understood why. I knew my mother and sister loved me very much, but I didn't look like them. They were dark and slender and small, and I had white skin and red hair and was tall and big boned. I used to think that was why my father hated me. He was always quick to slap me or kick at me, and Magda would come to my defense, screaming at him. Sometimes he would hit her, too. He just ignored my mother. I didn't understand why-not then. No one else was particularly unkind, but I did notice that they didn't go out of their way to like me. I always used to feel like I was really the daughter of a prince and a princess, and these gypsies had carried me away in the night. I always felt guilty for that, because I knew my mother and sister loved me. My mother would sing to me at night, the same song I sang to my little babies.

My mother became sick and suffered a great deal before she died. I remember that Magda tried brewing teas made from different things-what I don't know, I never really learned all that. My mother only became thinner and thinner, wasting away. Her face was pinched with pain that no medication would alleviate. I remember that was the only time any of us really stole anything. Magda's husband, Sandor, stole into the village where we were camped. He broke into the doctor's office and brought back something called laudenum. At first my mother only took a few sips of it. Toward the end, she was taking great draughts, and Sandor had to steal more from another doctor. I was only ten when my mother died, and Magda and Sandor only newly married. The night we buried my mother, I remember my father staring at me in a wild and strange way.

Not long after that, it began and my childhood ended. It was the last time I knew myself as the whole Jenny. Toward dusk one night, my father pulled our wagon off the road. He told Sandor and Magda that the wheel was loose. "Don't worry, I'll catch up to you and the others," he told them. He waited until everyone had gone, and then he pulled me down from the wagon. "Now, Jenny, it is time," he said in a new and dangerous voice. He still had that strange, wild expression on his face. He pulled me into the woods, to a clearing, and then he pushed me down on the ground.

"I am NOT your papa!" he roared in a very angry voice. "You are not my daughter! You are the spawn of some gaucho who wanted your mother! For a long time I have not been able to live like a man! You will pay me back for all the years I had to support you! You will give me what I need!"

Baby that I was, I didn't understand what he wanted. He held me down, ripping and tearing at my clothes and under things. Then he fumbled at himself, and when I saw him uncovered, I was terrified and screamed. He slapped me again, and blood came from my mouth and nose. "Shut up!" he roared. "You will give me what I need!" As he pressed forward, and I felt the first tearing pain, I felt I must have blacked out.

I could remember nothing until the moment I opened my eyes and found myself lying on the ground, aching all over. I didn't know what had happened to me and when I tried to gather my clothes together and sit up, I felt a deep pain in my groin. I saw that I my thighs were covered with blood, and I began to shake uncontrollably. My father came out of the bushes. I think he must've relieved himself, for he was stuffing himself back into his trousers. He looked at me with disgust. "Get up! Clean yourself up! Now!"

There was a creek further down the path, and I managed to stumble to the edge before I collapsed down at the edge, weeping. I thought I had passed out again because I remember nothing else until I was seated beside my father again in the wagon.

"You will tell no one, do you hear, you filthy little girl?" my father was saying. "No one will believe you if you tell, do you know that? Everyone knows what kind of a child you are and where you came from. They will not listen to you, do you hear? They will drive you away."

My father leaned close to me. "And if you say one little word to Magda, I will KILL her." He pressed his lips into my hair, and I shuddered and pulled away. He caressed my hair, and then he pulled it, hard. "And then I will kill YOU, you little slut!"

I know another truth now, because I can see everything now. I didn't pass out, like I thought I did. From that point on, I "passed out" frequently. There were periods of time I just couldn't remember. As my father used me more and more frequently, those periods of time became longer and longer. When I was me, I would sing to myself the songs I remembered of my mother. I can see now that when my father was on top of me or when he was teaching me things to do to please him, I was not the "real" Jenny. I remember thinking of myself as a girl named "Pearl." I believe that name came from a book I'd read in secret about a woman who'd had an adulterous affair with a man and then had a daughter named Pearl. The mother had to wear a red "A" on her blouse. As Pearl, I was beautful and pleasing and dutiful. In fact, I learned well from my father and even began to enjoy the things we did. That felt right because, after all, a child like Pearl would be a sinful child, wouldn't she?

When I wasn't Pearl and I wasn't Jenny, I was Baby-love. That was what my mother had called me as she rocked me in her arms when I was little. Sometimes Magda still called me that. Looking back, I can see that sometimes Baby-love cried and cried, and Jenny-mother would come and rock her. I so glad you all understand what I mean. In our state, we can see all the way back and understand all, and we can see forward and understand all. There was yet another who came when I was about 15. Sometimes she would be there instead of Pearl when Papa came. She was the Angry One. She would fight and claw Papa. That shocked him and he would beat her and still have his way. When he began to force her, she would run away in rage and leave Baby-love. Pearl had to come quick and take over because Baby-love would never have understood what was happening.

"Jenny, what is wrong with you today? You seem so sad," Magda would say worriedly. I would shake my head and laugh at her. I could never tell her. I would sing and dance for the people and they would throw coins our way. I put a beautiful smile on my face.

Once I saw a beautiful young man in the crowd, about my age. He stared and stared at me, and I knew he would like to speak to me. I arranged to meet him after the show so we could walk and talk. Papa followed us! He grabbed the young man and punched him several times. "You stay away from my daughter, you filthy gaucho! I know what you want! Jenny will not give it to you because I'll kill you first!"

The injured boy had crawled away, and we had to leave that night. Sandor said the people in town would be very, very angry because Papa had struck a rich white boy. "You belong to me," Papa muttered to me over and over as we drove off. "You will never leave me. You owe me too much, Jenny."

I retreated into myself, seeing the hopelessness of it all. Baby-love wept and the Angry One whispered, "Go and find Jenny-mother. I will stay here for now." In the wagon, in the dark, Papa approached. "You will not come now," the Angry One thought to Pearl. "It is I who will stay." I see now that the Angry One had gotten ahold of one of Sandor's knives, one of the knives he used to throw at Magda during a parlor trick. As Papa climbed into the narrow bed with me, the Angry One lifted her arm and brought it down savagely. Papa made a gurgling, stranged sound, and the Angry One shoved her stocking into Papa's mouth. Then she got up and stood over him, stabbing once and again and again and again. Then she calmly wiped the blade on the dirty sheets and dropped it on the floor. Blood, there is blood everywhere--just like the first time. That is only right, she thought. She jumped out of the back of the wagon and made her way to Magda and Sandor's wagon.

The Angry One woke me up before dawn. "We must go!" she whispered urgently. Baby-love whimpered. "Don't make any noise! All of us will take care of you! Now, let's go!" Within minutes, we were gone. Looking back now, I can see that when she woke up and saw "we" were gone, Magda got up and went to Papa's wagon, looking for us. I can hear Magda's screams resounding in my ears, and I am surprised. I thought there was no sound here.

I was in the city; I was free! I loved the freedom of not having to submit to Papa anymore. I could sing, and I could dance. I did both. I was a "show girl." Sometimes Pearl saw someone attractive in the audience, someone who wanted to give us a little money for further enjoyment after the show. Pearl would go with the man, and the Angry One would take care of him afterward. We couldn't stay in the same dance hall for too long; the Angry One said the gaucho police would notice the men were always with Pearl before they died. They always had more money than they'd been willing to give.

Time was blurry to me. I wake up sometimes to find myself in a strange room, wondering how I got there and how old I was now. I believe I lived in this manner another few years before I found Quentin-or rather, Pearl did. It was another one of those dance halls, smoky, and looking down, Pearl saw the most handsome face she'd ever seen admiring her from the front of the crowd. Backstage, there was cold champage, and the stage manager said, "You're in luck, dearie. The young man wants you to join him!" Eagerly, I/Pearl got dressed and went out front and joined him, unable to speak because I/Pearl was quivering with desire.

He was talking; I was answering. I don't remember what we said. I was enthralled with his blue eyes. He smoked a cigar; he laughed. Pearl wanted to dance. He was very willing. He pulled us close, we clung to him. He whispered, "Come for a walk with me." Oh, yes! Oh, yes! We walked and walked all through the city streets, I/Pearl clinging to his arm and staring up at him adoringly. I know now that Quentin was used to being adored by the women, but I think even we surprised him with our depth of feeling! I remember we talked and talked. He said what a beautiful voice I had; I replied that I used my voice to make people happy. That was nice, he said-he wasn't used to people wanting to make other people happy. "Oh, how sad," we said. I see now that, looking at us, Quentin saw that there was something even within us that was not within the other women he'd had. Compassion, loyalty, passion. I see now that he felt like he could talk to me, and he did-for hours.

"I should walk you home," Quentin said finally, and we went back toward the dance hall. As we came the building where I lived in the top-floor flat, Quentin suddenly seemed shy. Now I realize that the plan he'd originally meant to put into effect was upset; that he felt unsure of himself and that perhaps I should not just be another one of his one night conquests. "Well," he said, and stopped. Then he said, "Will you be on again tomorrow night?"

You stay away from us, Pearl warned the Angry One, leading Quentin to the bed. He's pretty, and I want him, and you're not going to hurt him! In fact, I don't want you here at all. You NEVER have fun, and I want to have fun with this one! For once, Pearl was stronger than the Angry One who could only fume and watch, while Jenny-mother held the wide-eyed Baby-love. Pearl leaned in close to Quentin, taking his hand and putting it on her breast. She kissed him deeply. She was going to show him pleasure he'd never even dreamed of-she'd do things for him no one else would ever have dreamed of doing. "And when it's over, you'll not go at him with your knife! When it's over, we'll give each other pleasure again and again!" Pearl's voice came strongly, with great authority. She kissed Quentin's throat and suddenly bit his earlobe. Quentin moaned with pleasure. "Put the baby to bed now, Jenny-mother!"

The first and only time Quentin offered us money for pleasuring him, we cried. "How much?" Quentin had asked nonchalantly. I was there then, enjoying the closeness and the warmth. Something about the way he asked that question made me sit up and look at him. Fool! hissed the Angry One. He offers you money because he thinks you are no-good, one of those bad ones that walk the street at night! Baby-love began to cry first, hurt that anyone would think her bad.

"This is a gift," Pearl stepped in to explain. "It was mine to give because I wanted to, not because I expected you to buy it from me. Pleasure between a man and a woman is a gift, it is not something you can buy!" She didn't understand why Quentin was looking at her so strangely, but I understand now.. He was brought up in a Victorian home, after all. What we had done just wasn't acceptable practices among decent people. Seeing the confusion on Quentin's face, Pearl sought to make it "better." "Here, let us try this. You will see what it is people are meant to feel." And we began again.

I think Quentin told me things he'd never told another person simply because he was enjoying himself immensely, couldn't understand me at all, and simply didn't care in any regard. I felt so sad for him at some of the things he told me later. He didn't remember very much about his mother or his father. Apparently, they both died when he was a little boy. There was some illness--what did he call it? scarlet fever? Have you heard of it?

He thought his older brother and sister, Edward and Judith, had never loved him--that they hated him, in fact. He felt pretty sure his brother Carl liked him. He thought his grandmother loved him, at least he hoped so! "What have you done that your brother and sister would hate you?" Jenny-mother asked in disbelieving wonder.

"Actually, I don't. The only other thing I remember is something about my sister." Quentin was quite willing to have Jenny-mother pull his head down on her shoulder and stroke his hair. "I remember sitting on her lap, on a swing. She was swinging us, and I had my arms around her waist. I felt like we were really flying high, like the birds. And Edith was laughing, her hair flying all around. She told me not to be scared, that she would take care of me. All I had to do was hang on to her..." Quentin's voice trailed away. He didn't like the intense feelings being stirred up inside and willed them away. "That's all I remember," he finished brusquely. He sat up on the side of the bed and reached for his clothes. "I have to go. I wouldn't want my brother Carl to worry about me."

I didn't say anything. Pearl wanted to find out where he was staying; she wanted to make sure he would come again to see us. The Angry One was furious, arguing with her. That left me, in their place, to see Quentin to the door. He did kiss me, and he did say he'd had an unimaginably wonderful time, and he did say he'd see me again on the following evening. I didn't think I should believe him.

I saw him in the audience again, two evenings later. It was a relief because we'd been alternating between Pearl's despair at being abandoned by the pretty one and the Angry One's rages that we wanted to be with any man. There was another man with him, a slighter man who laughed uproariously at almost everything. What does he think we are, bringing another man? The Angry One was furious. He is here again--that's all that matters! He will love me, I can make him love me! Pearl rejoiced. She was the one who went on stage and sang in her best, lustiest voice. The two men had drunk a whole bottle of something--scotch or whisky, I never learned much about drinking.

I came to the time because Pearl was unable to contain her joy and felt she might leap into his arms in front of everyone. Quentin held out a chair for me and I sat down. No one had ever done that before. "Jenny, may I present my brother, Carl Collins," he said formally and gallantly. "And, Carl, this is Jenny...ahhh..."

"Prescott," I said quickly. That was the stage name I'd chosen. Jenny Prescott. It was much more acceptable than my real gypsy last name. "Charmed, I'm sure, " Carl bowed drunkenly, and his head hit the table. "Hee, hee, hee! Don't mind me! I'm all right!"

"Oh, well I have a divan in my front room," Pearl said excitedly. "I'm sure he'll be quite comfortable there! Then you wouldn't have to leave, you know. Your brother wouldn't worry about where you were..." She couldn't stand looking into his eyes anymore. They were smoky with desire. He looked very flush and eager.

We spent a week together, there in the city. Carl awoke in the morning with a splitting head and a conscience that ached worse. Poor Carl--I really liked him, but he was such an innocent lamb. He actually blamed himself for what had happened--he felt he should've done a better job making sure Quentin behaved himself. Jenny-mother especially felt kindly toward him. I see now that Carl's clownishness and babyness was a way of protecting himself from his own hurts. Sometimes Carl became very drunk and slept on the divan in my front room. Sometimes he remained sober, went off on his own and returned to his own rooms at the hotel. In either case, Quentin remained with me.

After a week, Quentin said it was time to move on. He and his brother were travelling together, and they wanted to go to the seashore--some place called Ocean City. "You'd think I'd be sick of the sea because we live on it in Maine," Quentin said. "The thing is, though, you can't swim in it. It's too cold. And I love to swim. The water in Ocean City this time of the year is like bath water."

I will tell you what Quentin was thinking about on our trip to Ocean City. He was a very confused young man. On the one hand, he didn't think I was a very proper young lady because of my free behavior. I was doing things he ususually had to pay women to do. He knew it was wrong from everything his grandmother, brother and sister had taught him about relationships between men and women. Oh, I don't mean that his grandmother and sister actually talked to him about it. But it was the way they talked--they way they acted. He knew nice couples just didn't "do" that. His brother Edward was married to a beauty named Laura, and those two certainly didn't do anything like us. He had a nice and a nephew, Jamison and Nora. That was what the relationship between men and women were supposed to be--between married couples and only to have children. Never any other time. Yet, on the other hand, he had never enjoyed himself so thoroughly and so often and he didn't want to give it up. I was the first person who'd really listened to him in years, and he felt like he could tell me anything. Sometimes he'd regret it (especially if he divulged a hurtful secret) and then he'd become angry and withdrawn.

Quentin was silent for a long time. He looked up at the full moon, its light streaming onto the ocean waves. We sat in the cool sand, barefoot, and let the gentle waves rush over our toes and feet. "I was thinking what it would be like to be married," he said finally.

"I don't know," Quentin said. He seemed far away. "It's just that I wonder if things change..." His voice trailed off because Pearl had suddenly returned. I will make him believe that it never has to change, she thought. She had moved behind him, kneeling in the sand, and had begun massaging his neck and shoulders. As she continued to massage his neck with one hand, the other slipped down inside his shirt, tickling his chest. "Jenny," Quentin said, laughing.

Quentin clapped Carl on the shoulder, genuinely grateful. I see now that Quentin still struggled with the notion of marrying me. He wasn't sure he wanted to give up women, but he knew he couldn't give up what he had with me. He also knew he couldn't bring me home to Collinsport and place me in a cottage somewhere. That would've been totally unacceptable to everyone, and especially offensive to his Grandmama--who was the head of the family and had control of the Collins wealth. So I won't say that Quentin married me with the best of intentions. He was a selfish, needy little boy, and this was the best way he could think of to get what he wanted. Besides, he was eager to provoke Edward and Judith into a fit of rage.

Flying into a fit of rage was a mild way to put it. The scene in that drawing room was absolutely dreadful. Arriving back in Collinsport, I was so eager to please and to be liked. Quentin had bought me several new dresses on our way back up the east coast. We'd stopped on Third Avenue in New York City, and I felt like quite the elegant lady. It was not enough to suit Edward and Judith, however.

The two of them took turns berating first Quentin and then Carl. Carl hung his head, but Quentin was defiant and bitter toward them. As for me, I was practically cowering in a chair in the study, where a maid had politely conducted me after the introductions. As if they thought I couldn't hear them shouting down the hall! Fool, the Angry One said harshly. And what did you expect? The door opened, and I jumped and looked around, my hands going to my throat.

There was an old woman standing at the door, silently regarding me. Heavy set and heavy jowled, she had one hand on the door and the other held a cane, which helped support her weight. I jumped up, trying not to gasp. I felt like I was strangling and couldn't breathe. The old woman smiled an unpleasant smile. "You don't have to get up, my dear. I just wanted to have a brief look at you before I went up to bed. You are a very brave girl, child." I opened my mouth to speak, but found I couldn't. "Don't you want to know why I said that?" The old woman asked, still standing in the door. "I know what it's like to be a stranger coming into this family. Strangers are not welcome. Especially poor, ill-bred strangers." I still couldn't speak. "Do you love Quentin, child?" Dumbly, I nodded. "Then God help you, my dear. And I don't think He will. I know no one else will." With that, she stepped back out and shut the door.

I think life would've been completely unbearable had Quentin not lived on his own in a suite of rooms in the West Wing. They were spacious and comfortable and--most important--very private. We could get away from the Edward's disapproving glares and Judith's patronizing tones. As for Quentin, he seemed to be enjoying him self immensely. He really had the best of everything--me to give him anything and everything he could possibly want anytime he wanted, and the satisfaction of tormenting and baiting his brother and sister. Away from the family, I was happy with Quentin. When we were alone, Pearl came out frequently and there was no delight she was unwilling to try. Only one time did Quentin say, "What about a baby? So many times, won't there be a baby?"

Did Quentin want children? It was so hard to tell. I know how he behaved when his nephew and niece came around to visit us. They came freely, and they loved to be with us. Quentin was almost like a little child when he played with Jamison. The two of them would wrestle around on the floor, laughing. I loved to brush Nora's beautiful long hair, and I think the child appreciated the attention. Quiet and solemn, I think she was really lonely for her mother. I made a little rag doll for Nora once. Quentin was always very gentle and loving with her. Jenny-mother thought he might enjoy being a father.

Other than the children, Carl was the only one who was genuinely polite to me. It was hard to tell what Grandmama was thinking. She never cut me and was never outwardly unkind, but she didn't go out of her way to be friendly. It was almost as if she had no feelings one way or the other about me. We didn't mind that because if we happened to go into the drawing room while Grandmama was there, we could have a pleasant conversation. I guess she--tolerated me. For Quentin, she seemed to have a wary affection. Sometimes he delighted her, and other times he angered her. I didn't understand her feeling toward him until now.

She and Quentin had more than just blood in common, you see. They were fascinated with mystical, supernatural things. He had a child's curiosity about contacting spirits; she was more worldly and aware. She was more malevolent because it was she who involved Quentin in magical doings. When he was a child, she used his love for her to manipulate him into helping her with spells, seances, and other bizarre things. It was no wonder that Quentin began to use his own nephew Jamison in the same way. He honestly didn't think there was anything wrong with it, I see that now. Edith was different. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Quentin had a friend named Evan Hanley. I'd never really met a man like him before. He was older than Quentin by at least ten years, very suave and very proper--it seemed. Yet his eyes raked me when Quentin introduced us, and the Angry One bristled. He stares inside! He not only sees inside the clothes we wear, uncovering us, he sees inside our head! Evan smirked a little, as if he'd heard, kissed my hand, and said, "Quentin, you have no idea what an interesting person you've married!" Well, Evan wasn't nasty or unpleasant like Quentin's brother and sister. He was just....intimidating, I think that is the word for it. He was so different.

He visited Quentin and me often. He and Quentin would listen to music on the gramophone. Quentin had a waltz he particularly loved. He and Evan would smoke cigars and talk. Sometimes they played poker (which would have scandalized Quentin's brother and sister). They even taught us how to play draw, and Jenny-mother was particularly skillful at that! Sometimes Evan asked Quentin to join him at The Eagle for a drink. I didn't think they were going there. I wasn't sure what they were doing. Everyone was rather relieved to have Evan go. No one felt that they were "up to something."

Once I asked Quentin where he'd met Evan. "Well, he's been our family lawyer for several years now. I guess I met him one day when Grandmama had him over to discuss some business." I thought about some of the strange things I'd heard them talking about and supposed that Evan and Edith had discussed some of the same things. It didn't matter though--Quentin and I had our own little world in the West Wing.

I was still in a state of blissfulness when I began to sense something was wrong.. The Angry One was muttering and hissing and complaining almost all the time, but that was nothing new. One day, I don't know how many months later it was, I became aware that Pearl had retreated in confusion and grief. Jenny-mother said I think I'd better try and take care of this, but I don't know how to be anything but kind. What is it? I asked. Edward's wife, Laura, Jenny-mother answered. Have you not been noticing what's she is up to?

I was really intimidated around Judith and Laura, but especially Laura. I didn't mind Edward; I was used to the growls and rants of angry men. Judith was patronizingly polite to me; sickeningly sweet. But Laura! She treated me as if I was nothing but a bug on the floor. I knew that Judith believed I was completely her inferior in social rank, but with Laura the feeling went deeper. Laura was angry with me and hated me.

What I didn't know then, of course, was that Laura was a creature of no remorse. She'd already been toying with and teasing Quentin before he left on his recent trip with Carl. In fact, that had been the reason for the trip. She was outraged when her little toy came back a married man. She was even more infuriated when her efforts to win Quentin back came to naught at first. Why would Quentin go to her, when she would only tease him and make him hot with desire but leave him unfulfilled? Why would he do that when he only had to come to me, and I would do anything he wanted? She was bored with Edward; he didn't please her at all anymore and never really had. All he'd done was given her the only thing she'd wanted--her children. Now all she wanted was pleasure, but on her own terms. She was coming to the realization that she was going to have to be more aggressive in her pursuit of Quentin.

I listened to Jenny-mother, and I watched and waited for several days. One morning at the breakfast table, I saw a look pass between Quentin and Laura. She finished first and got up and left, leaving Edward with his paper and Judith prattling nonsense about some dinner party. Soon afterward, Quentin got up and excused himself. I decided to follow. Keep Pearl and the Angry One busy, I advised Jenny-mother and Baby-love. I went out onto the terrace and saw Quentin striding quickly down the path. I followed. Why is he doing this? Pearl moaned, reluctant to retreat into the background. I give him everything he needs. Jenny-mother reasoned with her. After all, could you really eat apple pie and ice cream everyday? Sometimes you just want something different.

The path went through the woods. From years of experience with stealing away in the night, I knew how to silently make my way without being heard. There was a cottage ahead, one of several on the estate. I saw Quentin open the door. I could see that Laura was inside. "Oh, Quentin!" I called. Quentin jumped about a foot into the air and spun around to face me. "Oh, I see you've come for a walk, too, " I said purringly. I decided to act like Pearl and swung my hips as I walked toward him. Quentin's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say a word.

"Why, I came to talk a walk with my husband," I said, simpering. "Quentin and I just love to take walks, don't we, dear, and sometimes we do find the most interesting places to explore!" I took Quentin's arms, feeling weakened by the hateful daggers Laura was stabbing me with in her eyes. I thought I might pass out, and then suddenly I felt Pearl rush past. Pearl lifted her head and smiled imperiously at Laura. "For instance," she went on in a very throaty voice, "I understand that there are caves around here, near the beach. Nice, DARK caves where we can be totally alone. Quentin, do you know where they are?" Looking into Pearl's eyes blazing with desire, Quentin flushed a deep red. He nodded, looking very much like a lovestruck schoolboy. "Will you take me there?" Again, Quentin nodded. Laura slammed the door in a fury.

I knew then I had to be careful, for I had a more serious enemy that I could possibly have imagined. Over the course of the next several weeks, we were vigilant, watching Laura closely and moving quickly to intervene when we thought she was too close. It wasn't always easy to be so careful. I was feeling ill; not at all strong. My time had not come in several weeks, and the sight of food in the morning made me sick. Sometimes I retched, which caused Quentin to stalk off in disgust. He didn't like it.

"What is WRONG with you?" Laura asked fiercely. She looked at me closely, her eyes widening in fury. "No!" she cried out in rage. "You won't be able to hold him! Not that way--I won't let you!" She put her hand on my abdomen, and I felt a hot fire. I hadn't felt such hot flaming pain since--not since-Papa!

It was then Jenny-mother knew what had been wrong with me, because it was ending. That was the part that was really wrong. There had been something right with me, and now it was going, the rightness was going right out of my body. "No, no!" Jenny-mother cried out. Maybe if we got back to our room, we could stop it...

Beth was a very pretty girl, with golden hair kept pinned up. She talked to us soothingly. She told us about herself, for she was a very lonely girl. She didn't know how many people she was talking to. Beth was a "bad" girl, too. You wouldn't think it to look at her, with her beautiful golden hair and blue eyes. Her mama was blonde and blue-eyed, too, but her papa--ah, that was different. Beth had his last name, but they were never even married. Beth's father was some kind of pirate (she said) who took advantage of her mother on a Carribbean island. The shame of it! Of course, Beth's mother said she'd been married and that her husband had been killed--

Actually, that is just is what Beth told me. The real truth is that Beth's mother was a domestic for a rich family in Boston. Their gardener was someone named Cesar Chavez, and he loved Beth's mother very much. She must've liked him a little to have gotten herself pregnant that way. Beth's mother had to leave that family, of course, and came to Rockport. She passed herself off as a widow and secured another position for herself as a cook. Beth never told me this; I've only learned it since....since I came here.

Beth was very kind to me. She felt sorry for me. She was very kind and wasn't jealous of me at all, not even when Quentin went to her...Beth was so kind she never told me that. It's just that I know everything now. I think her kindness helped bring us back. I think we must've been ill several weeks. I am just not sure.

I did not know how far things had progressed between Laura and Quentin then. Pearl came alive, and she wanted Quentin very much. She missed him. It had been such a long time. Actually, Quentin had even missed her, too, or us. He might have been able to satisfy himself somewhat with Laura, but he couldn't talk to her. She would've laughed at whatever he had to say to her. And as for Beth, he didn't know how kind a girl she was. He didn't know he could talk to her. He thought himself too good for her; that she was only a servant girl he could convince to submit to him.

Quentin sat gazing into the fire, moodily. Laura was reading a book nearby, and Judith was doing her stitching as usual. Pearl swept into the room, walked straight over to Quentin, bent down and kissed him on the ear, blowing into it. "Hello, my darling, I'm feeling ever so much better!" she cried out joyously. Judith rolled her eyes and made a moue of disgusted disapproval.

"Come, wife, it matters not to us what time of the day or night, does it?" Quentin said, rising and deftly steering us out of the room. I must say, he could pull Judith's emotions like a puppeteer pulls a puppet's strings. Like the puppeteer, he certainly enjoyed every minute of it. We laughed and laughed together as we went out into the night. We ignored the two angry women behind us--they were nothing to us at this moment.

There was only one moment in that glorious night that was marred by the Angry One. Sometime during the night, we were in the orchard. There was an old swing, and we sat on Quentin's lap, facing him as we swung back and forth. We hugged him loosely around the neck, our legs draped over his hips to keep balanced. Pearl kept wanting to kiss him.

Pearl was gone suddenly. "In-in-incestuous?" Baby-love squeaked tremulously, hurt. Then the Angry One was there, in all her furious glory. "You mean like father and daughter?" she snarled, purple with rage. Images of Papa--images of what he'd done...images long buried were suddenly brought forth into life. It was like being there again. And before the very startled Quentin could reply No, like sister and brother, the Angry One struck. She didn't have a knife, thank God, but she balled her hand into a fist and punched Quentin in the nose as hard as she could.

Everyone fell off the swing. Quentin went over backwards, dragging us with him. His head hit the ground with a sickening thud, and we rolled over him and onto the grass nearby. MyGodmyGodwhat have you done? Pearl shrieked. The force of her shriek seemed to shatter the Angry One into pieces, for she fled. "Quentin, Quentin!" she cried out, scuttling along the grass to get to Quentin, who was already rising on his hands and knees. "Are you hurt? Are you hurt? Oh! Oh!" Pearl shrieked aloud, frightened by the blood spurting from Quentin's nose.

"Of course! I'm so stupid! Here, wait!" Jenny-mother reached down and tore part of her dress and gave it to Quentin. She ignored the fact that her own lip was bleeding. Quentin pressed the cloth against his nose. Jenny-mother moved closer to him. "Here, let me take care of you," she said. She crept behind Quentin. "Lean back against my shoulder," she instructed. "Put your head back. Way back." Quentin obeyed her, and she took the piece of cloth from him and pressed it to his injured nose until she was sure the bleeding had stopped. We were all breathing heavily.

But we couldn't. How could we tell him of our shame, that we'd been so bad that our Papa would...that we had killed not one man but several...Help me! I can't think! Jenny-mother thought wildly. We have to think fast! "I'm so sorry, Quentin, it's just that you startled me so, " Pearl answered lamely. "I thought of us and I couldn't imagine how you could possibly confuse what we were doing with your sister! It seemed so un-sisterlike!"

We crept back to the house in the late hours of the evening. It would have been nice if everyone had retired for the evening. Unfortunately, Edward was in the foyer when we came in. He looked us up and down with a sneer curling his lip. Our clothes were dirty and torn; our faces were stiill spattered with not only dried blood but the flush of lustful fulfillment. "Good God!" he said loudly. "What have you been about?" Quentin grinned at him broadly.

"Well, Quentin, since you bring up decency, I am not surprised you'd do this with her," Laura said in a snide tone. "After all, we all know what SHE is like, wanton creature. She's at you all the time, hands all over you. She doesn't know how to behave decently."

Quentin's grin was broader. "Jealous, are you?" Edward's hands open and closed spastically. He clenched his fists and made a half-step toward Quentin. Quentin's eyes turned hard. "If you hit me, big brother, I swear I'll hit you back and I won't stop," he warned. "I'm not little anymore, and you're not going to bully or beat me anymore."

Edward stopped cold, considering. He decided Quentin meant business. "You dare to speak to my wife that way when yours is nothing but a low-class hussy! At least my wife knows the propriety of decent behavior around here! That woman of yours is an evil influence not only on us, but on our children! She could corrupt Jamison and Nora!"

Baby-love started to cry. Quentin said absolutely nothing in my defense. Deep down inside, he believed Edward. He thought we were both bad. He did bristle at the mention of his niece and nephew, though. "If anything at all, we'd make real people out of them, not proper, stuffy little dolls!"

"I think we have had quite enough of this," Grandmama declared, stepping in. "I don't think it will serve any useful purpose to go at each other like this. I suggest we retire for the evening and leave any further discussion for the morning." She looked at me with some sympathy but offered no words of comfort.

Bad, bad, we're bad, we never should have done that! What were we thinking? scolded Jenny-love. For once she didn't attempt to rock Baby-love, who sniffled and wept, But I didn't do anything wrong! The Angry One muttered and cursed under her breath, and Pearl had curled up into a little ball, totally devastated that Quentin had made no attempt to defend her. He did put his arm around her and lead her up the stairs, even though she was weeping and the crying irritated him because it made him feel uncomfortable and guilty. This is what I realize now. The Angry One continued her tirade; her anger made her bubble and seem to grow taller and broader than any of the rest of us. Suddenly, without warning, the Angry One broke out of Quentin's arm, spun around and clawed at Laura's face, who was following upstairs just a few steps behind.

"Oh, shut up!" Quentin snapped, frustrated himself with trying to control us. Quentin dragged the Angry One down the corridor to the West Wing. Realizing she couldn't free herself from him, the Angry One went away, leaving Baby-love, who began weeping hysterically. "Oh, for God's sake! Shut up, will you?" Quentin opened the door to our suite and pushed us in. He grabbed our arm and pulled us roughly to the bed, pushing us down. "Just what in hell is wrong with you?"

Time passed. Beth came; she brought a tray and set it down. "Mrs. Collins, I've brought you some breakfast," she said hesitantly. Beth's voice sounded hollow and far away. Some time later, she returned and took the tray again. Our mind floated, drifting, unaware of time. We heard the door open. Pearl started to spring forward hopefully, but it was only Beth again. Pearl faded back. Beth had another tray. "Please, Mrs. Collins, you have to eat."

Later still, Grandmama came in and stood by the bed. "I don't know what you're playing at, my dear, but this is a very dangerous game and not likely to work." No one felt like answering her. "Jenny, no one else accepts you in this family, and they may never accept you. If you act like this, you won't win their respect at all. That is something you must fight to do. Even if they all always despise you, you must at least have their respect." She went away.

Quentin is gone, Pearl mourned. He doesn't love me anymore. You idiot! snapped the Angry One. What a fool you are! He just used you all this time! He never loved you! Not even me? sniffled Baby-love. Jenny-mother stroked her hair. Everyone was too tired and sad to move.

Much more time passed. Then, one night, we heard sounds in the outer room. A lot of clattering around, moving things around. The door to the bedroom opened, and Quentin strode in. He began opening drawers and pulling out clothes. Jenny-mother roused herself and sat up in the bed, looking at him in confusion. Quentin looked at her once and then looked away. He took more clothes out and went into the outer room again. Jenny-mother got up and stood in the doorway. She watched as Quentin threw his things into a valise. He didn't look at her again.

He's leaving us! Jenny-mother thought, panic stricken. He'll come back, Pearl whispered hopefully. Ha! You are stupid, stupid to think he'll come back! He's running away with HER! the Angry One declared. Pearl retreated, putting her hands over her ears. The Angry One struggled with her, trying to pull her hands down. Are you too frightened or just too stupid to listen?

Time then was like time now. I didn't seem to be aware of its passing. Only Beth came to see me every day. Beth spoke kindly and soothingly. She would brush out my long, thick hair and sometimes she even sang to me as she did. It was only to Beth that I could speak.

"You'll continue to care for her as you have," Judith explained. "She can't stay here, though. We can't have anyone see her like this, especially not in her, ah, delicate condition. Grandmama has consented for her to be moved to the Tower."

The great, wrenching pain yet again, and also the desire to bear down and end the pain. The waves poured over our body uncontrollably. We shuddered and pushed and cried out. There was a wail in the room; then another. The pains were over. We fell back, exhausted.

The fog seemed to be lifting as the crying grew louder. A tingling began in my body, and I struggled to sit up. "My babies?" I was confused, but sure enough--Beth held one little bundle and the kindly faced woman held the other. Beth moved to the bed. "Here is your daughter, Jenny," Beth said, and she layed the small bundle on my stomach.

It mewled and kicked like a kitten. "Oh, " I gasped. "Oh!" I had to see. I picked it up and looked into its eyes. Oh, it was magic. I KNEW who she was, and she knew me. I put her to my breast and held her snugly with my arm. With my other, I reached out to the midwife. "May I have my son, please?"

For a few days, there was clarity of thought and purpose. I had a reason to want to go on, even if it was without Quentin. I knew he'd left. I didn't know if he'd come back. Pearl hoped he would. She yearned for him desperately. Perhaps when we tell him about the babies....

One morning, when it was time for Beth to appear with the breakfast tray, we decided we would ask where Quentin had gone. We would write to him and tell him about the babies. However, when Beth came in--Edward and Judith were with her. Edward went straight to a bassinet and picked up my son.

"Lock this door!" Edward snarled. Weeping, Beth locked the door behind them as they left with the babies. She turned toward the bed. Jenny-mother had stopped screaming and was staring in silence at the ceiling. At least, Beth thought we were staring in silence. I was screaming silently with all the strength that I had, Magda! I need you! Please please please come! Please help me! Magda! Magda! Magda!

She heard me, my beloved sister, Magda. She did not know that she heard me because in almost all the time she was here, she wasn't aware that I was nearby. She felt inexplicably drawn to this place. Sandor thought she was crazy--there was nothing here; this was a small town especially distrustful of gypsies. However, Magda wouldn't be dissuaded. She knew something had brought her here, and here she would stay. She heard about Edith Collins and in her own special way, arranged to meet her. And with that, Magda set herself on a course down a road which led to misery, death, and this horrible , horrible curse.

Time is so fluid here. Suddenly summoned by the cries of my baby boy, I flew away to be with him when he crossed over to the Kingdom. No, I didn't bring my son here because he doesn't belong in this sorrowful place of unrest. I couldn't stop him from dying, although I would have had it been possible. All I could do was help his beautiful little soul self rise from his wasted body, and I carried him up to my mother. She would take him the rest of the way. I couldn't go yet, not even though I wanted to because I had to watch over the one who stayed behind, Lenore. She was very ill, but I could help her live and I determined to do that. This, in spite of the fact that I knew she would grow up, marry, and bear children who carried Magda's curse in their blood. I stayed and determined to help her live, even though I knew that I would have to remain and would not be able to join my mother and little son.

I never seemed to have any real purpose to my life, not even while I was married to Quentin. It is strange to have a purpose now. Even in this sad, sad place I must believe that there is hope. Perhaps the curse can be lifted somehow. Until then, I must try and protect my child and my child's children and her children's children. I don't hate Quentin for anything that has happened. Perhaps someday we can all be joined together in peace and know each other the way we should have from the very beginning. I believe it will happen. I only need wait here with all of you and watch.