Coming Home
By Connie Jonas
© Connie Jonas
Based on characters created by Dan Curtis for the TV show Dark Shadows. Dark Shadows © Dan Curtis Productions
Originally published in "Victoria Winters: A Dark Shadows Anthology," 1993
Collinsport. Maine, 1798
Victoria Winters Bradford woke suddenly, unsure of just what it was that had disturbed her rest. Certainly the dream had been vivid enough, but had it been sufficient to waken her?
For the past several weeks, Victoria's sleep had been interrupted almost nightly by the same dream. It was hazy and indistinct at first, but she had finally experienced the dream enough times to recall it fully. Each time she'd had it, the feeling of reality grew. Now it seemed it was causing her to wake up in the middle of the night.
The dream began in Collinwood's drawing room - a Collinwood that Victoria hadn't seen in more than two years. Indeed, it was a Collinwood that wouldn't exist for more than 170 years, for it was the Collinwood of the future that Victoria was seeing. She and her former employer, Elizabeth Collins Stoddard, were alone in the room, and it was clear that they were having an argument. At first, Victoria had only been able to determine this by the look on their faces, because no sound reached her in her dreaming state. Over time, however, she had gradually become aware of two voices raised in anger, frustration and pain - hers and Elizabeth's. This troubled Victoria, for she had always been extremely fond of Mrs. Stoddard. Why then was there anger in the dream?
Knowing she would not sleep again this night, Victoria threw back the blankets, rose, and went to the window. A light rain was falling, sending the scent of fresh-washed grass back to her, even through the thin panes of old-fashioned glass.
Old-fashioned. Strange how she'd never thought of anything that way when Peter had been alive. Now that he was gone, it seemed her twentieth century attitudes were beginning to reassert themselves.
Peter Bradford had been killed in a riding accident just two months earlier. His horrified, disbelieving wife had witnessed the entire incident, helpless to do anything to prevent it. While Peter and Victoria were visiting friends in a nearby village, Peter had been thrown from his horse. This would not ordinarily have been a problem for Peter, who was good with horses, but in this case, the fall took place next to a narrow, deep ravine, and Peter was killed instantly as Victoria looked on from the clearing on the other side.
Peter had taken Victoria's heart and all her dreams for the future with him. They'd barely had two years together, and recently, they had been hoping for a child. Now that hope was all over, and Victoria was more alone than she had ever been at the foundling home. Peter Bradford had been all that she needed - or wanted for that matter - from this foreign time she had come to. Now what was she to do? This century wasn't hers; it was Peter's and only now did Victoria begin to realize how horribly out of place she really was.
Three days after her return to the little cottage they had shared, the dreams began. Over the next few weeks, Victoria experienced the dream nearly every night, although it had taken some time for her to understand and accept it as a sign that her time here was over. She felt that her own time was calling for her to return.
How she was to accomplish this, Victoria had no clue. She'd never understood the quirk of time that flung her more than 150 years into the past during that fateful seance in the 1960s, nor did she wish to. She had believed (and still did believe) that the power of her love for Peter - and his for her - had made it possible for them to be together in his time - the 1790s. Now that Peter was gone, there was nothing to hold her here, and once Victoria began having the dream, she became certain that her return to her own time was imminent. She had only to wait.
Attempting to effect her own return was unthinkable. For one thing, her brush with the authorities on the subject of the supernatural was still fresh enough in her mind to bring a chill to her blood. That experience had been a waking nightmare, and Victoria was not about to tempt fate in that manner again. So she waited.
Dawn was beginning to creep in around the edges of darkness. Soon, the day would begin anew. Another day without Peter. Another day alone.
Another day in a century in which she did not belong.
Victoria left her place at the window and began her morning ablutions. Oh, to be able to simply turn on a faucet and have hot water, she thought as she waited for the kettle on the hearth to warm. She had never missed any of those things when Peter was alive. Only now that he was gone forever did she wish for modern conveniences.
Only now that she was alone.
She had spent so much of her life alone - first at the foundling home, then at Collinwood, in a forbidding house of strangers. Those strangers eventually became the only family she had ever known - until she gave them up for Peter. And now that she was alone once again, Victoria found her thoughts turning more and more to the Collins family of her time.
Victoria knew she wanted to go back there - wanted to return to her own century more than anything. But how could she go about it?
For the next few days, this problem occupied her thoughts nearly every waking moment. Without the knowledge of how to make it happen, she was powerless to do anything, and dared ask no one for help. But she was sure there was a way; she simply had to find it.
Every day her mind dwelt on her predicament. And every night her dream returned to tantalize her. And the dream was changing. Every night, it became a little clearer, a little more distinct. Then one night, she suddenly understood every word she and Elizabeth Stoddard were saying.
The dream took on a completely new form this time. Victoria was in the dream, and she was the dream. She was suddenly living it - and she was very angry.
"How could you, Mrs. Stoddard?" she heard herself saying as if from very far away. "How could you? You knew how important this was to me! Have you no feelings for me at all?"
"Why, of course I do, Vicki, dear. I was trying to protect you, don't you see?" Elizabeth said desperately, her face pale. "What can I say to make you understand?"
"I can't think of any excuse for Lying, Mrs. Stoddard, " Victoria said bluntly. "Which is what you started doing the day I entered this house."
Elizabeth hung her head. "I know," she said quietly. "I was afraid. "
"Of what?" Victoria had no patience. "The truth? What were you afraid of? That I would make trouble? Cause a scandal?"
"I had to do what I thought best, " said Elizabeth, her manner becoming defensive. "If you cannot understand that, I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. "
"That's a very cold attitude, Mrs. Stoddard," Victoria pointed out.
"Enough!" exclaimed Elizabeth, her eyes flashing. "I'm not going to stand here and explain my actions to you. I'm not going to try and excuse what I did. I did what I felt I had to do at the time. " She turned away. "Let that be an end to it. "
An end to it. It was at this point that Victoria always woke up.
Without putting an end to it. Without discovering what she and Mrs. Stoddard were arguing about.
It must be something important, Victoria reasoned, or the dream would not have made such an impression on her. What was it?
For the next several nights, Victoria could hardly close her eyes without the dream unfolding. She always woke up at exactly the same place. Whatever the dream was trying to convey was something Victoria would have to discover for herself. To do that, she decided, she would have to return to the Collinwood of the 20th century.
Suddenly, she had an inspiration. There was someone she could ask for help. Someone who had been her friend at Collinwood since she had first come there to tutor David.
Josette Collins.
Ah, but would Josette help her? The last meeting between Josette and Victoria, just before Josette died, had not been a friendly one. Angry, frightened and hostile, Josette had been convinced that Victoria was the witch who had been wreaking havoc at Collinwood. She had not believed Victoria's declarations of innocence.
Josette should have looked much closer to home, thought Victoria, if she wanted to find the witch.
Now, Josette was more than two years in her grave, and yet, paradoxically, more than 150 years separated her from the Collins family of the 1960s and the quiet governess whom Josette would one day protect.
In the 1960s, Josette had appeared to her on several occasions, warning Victoria of danger and of evil doings on the great estate. She'd used Victoria as a medium of communication during more than one seance, even saving her life when deranged Matthew Morgan had been determined to kill her.
So, would Josette help her now? There was only one way to find out.
Victoria spread her hands in front of her in an almost prayerful gesture, closed her eyes tightly and concentrated. "Josette," she breathed, focusing every thought she could summon on the image of the French girl who had known such tragedy at Collinwood. "Josette, if you can hear the sound of my voice, I need your help desperately! Josette, you know I do not belong in this time. You know that I am out of place in this century. I need your help, Josette, to return to my own time. I cannot do it by myself. I need your help. You have helped me so often! Won't you help me now?"
Victoria wondered if it was it her imagination, or if she suddenly detected the scent of Jasmine in the air.
She took a deep breath,and the scent of the exotic blossoms filled her nostrils. Josette was there! She had heard Victoria's plea.
"Josette, you do hear me!" she cried, encouraged by the ghost's response. "You are here! Will you help me, Josette? Can you help me?"
"Who summons me?" asked a voice behind her.
Victoria spun around, gasping in surprise. Before her stood a shadowy form in white. It was Josette.
"Josette, I'm Victoria Winters. Do you remember me?"
There was a very long pause before the ghost answered. "Victoria Winters?"
"That's right. I was governess to Sarah and Daniel Collins."
"You do not belong here, Victoria Winters," intoned Josette softly. "Your place is not here and now, but in the yet to come."
Victoria nodded. "I know that, Josette. I want to go back to my own time, but I don't know how. Can you help me? Please, Josette."
Josette shook her head wisely. "I cannot help you now, Victoria Winters. It is not for me to help you now, but in another time and place."
"But there must be something I can do," exclaimed Victoria, on the verge of tears.
"The power of love brought you here," Josette told her. "The power of love must take you home again."
"But I don't understand."
"Believe in the power of love, Victoria Winters, for that power is the greatest power of all."
"The greatest power," whispered Victoria, turning away to think. She believed in love's great power; it had brought her through time and space to be with Peter, hadn't it? But Peter was gone now; the power of their love had not been enough to keep him from death. What other love could be that strong, that far-reaching? Victoria turned back to ask Josette.
But the ghost had vanished.
Inhaling the last traces of Jasmine clinging to the air, Victoria went to the hearth and made herself a cup of tea. This would require a little thought.
The power of love brought had her to this time. Josette said that the power of love would take her home again. Victoria pondered this as she sipped her tea. She had loved just one other man in her life besides Peter - Burke Devlin. But that had been a far gentler emotion than what she'd felt for Peter.
Then what had Josette been talking about? At last the lateness of the hour forced Victoria to abandon the problem for tonight. She prepared for bed slowly, her mind mulling over the things Josette told her. What was the key?
As the dream unfolded that night in all its startling clarity, she received her answer.
It was a revelation that rocked Victoria to the depths of her soul.
"How could you, Mrs. Stoddard?" she demanded of her employer. "How could you do such a thing?" She paced Collinwood's drawing room floor, her manner agitated. "You know how important this was to me - how much I wanted to find out about my past. You knew that this was the reason I came to Collinsport. I made no secret of it! I asked you repeatedly if you knew anything about me and you always told me no. " A tear trembled on her eyelash, then grew too heavy and slipped down her cheek. "You lied to me, Mrs. Stoddard!"
Elizabeth turned away. "l only did what I thought was best, Vicki, dear, " she pleaded. "Can't you at least try to understand?"
"But why? Why seek me out at the founding home? Why bring me here at all if you weren't going to tell me the truth?"
"Please, " Elizabeth begged, wringing her delicately boned hands in distress. "I was so young. I was terrified. I knew nothing of the world. I thought it was for the best. "
Victoria 's dark eyes widened in disbelief. "For the best? For the best, Mrs. Stoddard? You thought it was for the best that you desert your child? Your own little girl? Your daughter?"
Daughter.
Victoria sat bolt upright in bed, her heart pounding raggedly. Daughter!
She was Elizabeth Collins Stoddard's daughter.
Victoria got out of bed, unmindful of the chilly bare floor or the darkness of the early morning hour. Her lonely heart took wing and she hugged herself in delight as she built up the fire in the grate and danced on first one foot and then another as the blaze grew and began to warm the room.
Daughter. Oh, it was too good to be true!
Now, many things that had puzzled and confused Victoria seemed so clear. The letter from out of nowhere, containing the job offer to come to work in a tiny fishing village she'd never heard of; Mrs. Stoddard's vague replies to her inquiries; the Mistress of Collinwood's refusal to discuss how she had gotten Victoria's name.
Other acts which seemed strange now took on new meaning. Elizabeth had given Victoria the room she herself had slept in as a child. She'd refused to let Victoria give up and leave Collinwood in those early days when David had been so hard to reach. And the affinity she had felt for the Collinses from the very first was now easy to understand. Victoria was a Collins.
Though Elizabeth had, for some unknown reason, been compelled to give Victoria up, she had never forgotten her. She faithfully sent money from Bangor every month, and when the opportunity presented itself, she brought her daughter home.
Home. Collinwood. Victoria now understood what Josette had told her. The power of love would take her back to her home. And suddenly, she knew what she must do.
Victoria seated herself at her little, wooden writing desk and composed two short letters. The first was to the only real friend Victoria had made in this time, a young woman named Rebecca Marks, who was the wife of the Collinsport schoolmaster, Gideon Marks:
Dearest Rebecca:
By the time you receive this letter, I will be gone. I hope you can forgive me for not saying goodbye, but there was no time.
I told you once my home was far away. I have become very homesick, and now that Peter is gone, I no longer belong here. There is something I must do, and I shall be glad to go home.
I wish you happiness in all things,
Victoria
The other letter was to old Joshua Collins:
Dear Mr. Collins:
The time has come for me to return to my real home - to the place I came from, and where I belong.
I shall miss you and Daniel and Ben very much. I know that Daniel will grow up to be a fine young man and someone you will be proud of. Please give him my love.
I cannot begin to thank you for everything you have done - both for Peter and for me. You have been a true friend, and I will never forget you.
Victoria Winters Bradford
Victoria slid each letter into an envelope and sealed them with wax. Then she placed them on the writing desk and rose from her chair.
As she dressed, she hummed a little tune to herself. She hadn't been this happy since before Peter's accident. She was finally going to get her heart's desire - a family. A real family.
She though of Elizabeth's other daughter, Carolyn. Carolyn was her sister - her little sister. David would be so surprised to find out that the governess he had once hated, and had gradually grown to love, was really his cousin. And Roger was her uncle. That thought made her chuckle as she finished dressing and prepared to go.
She looked around the cottage fondly. She and Peter had been so happy here! But Peter was gone, and Victoria had a real family now. There was only one item she would take with her: She had a beautiful seed pearl broach - a gift from Peter on their wedding anniversary last year.
Inside, she had placed a lock of Peter's hair. She found the broach, pinned it to her dark dress and donned her grey cloak, slipping the letters into her pocket. She would go to Collinwood, for she believed that it was there that she would be able to return to her own time.
It was still extremely early in the morning, but the ever-faithful Ben Stokes answered her tentative knock almost immediately, stepping back to let her in.
"Mr. Joshua ain't up yet, Miz Bradford, ma'am," he told her. "He doesn't rise quite as early as he used to."
Victoria smiled warmly at him. "That's all right, Ben," she told him. "Actually, I didn't come here to see Mr. Collins. I was wondering if you'd allow me to go upstairs to Josette's room."
Ben frowned, clearly puzzled. "Josette's room, ma'am?"
Victoria nodded. "Yes, the room at the end of the main hallway. That was Josette's room, wasn't it?"
"Aye."
"Well, it was my room, too, Ben, in the time I came from. May I go up there?"
"Beggin' your pardon, Miz Bradford, but what do you want in Miss Josette's old room?"
Victoria's smiled widened. "I don't want anything in the room, Ben; I only want to go in there for a few minutes. I don't think I'll be in there long." She touched Ben's arm. "You know I come from a time in the future, don't you, Ben?"
Ben shook his head. "I never did rightly understand that."
"Neither do I, but it happened. And now I'm going home, Ben - back to where I belong."
"I don't reckon I know what you're talkin' about, but I don't suppose Mr. Joshua would mind if you was up there for a few minutes."
"Thank you, Ben." Victoria reached into her cloak pocket and pulled out the two letters. "Will you do me one last favor, Ben?" she asked. "Will you please give one of these letters to Mr. Collins and see that my friend, Rebecca Marks, gets the other?"
"I'd be glad to, Miz Bradford."
"And Ben? Thank you for everything. You've always been kind to me."
Ben was silent for a long moment, then he said with an air of embarrassment, "You're welcome. I'll miss ye."
"I'll miss you, too, Ben." With that, Victoria, turned and hurried quietly up the stairs, leaving Ben to stare after her in confusion, wondering if he would ever completely understand the goings-on at Collinwood.
Victoria made her way down the familiar hallway, noting that Collinwood didn't really change that much over the years. Oh, there were modern conveniences, and the decor differed, of course, but through it all, Collinwood remained the same - solid, stable. It was a wonderful feeling to know she was a part of that at last.
She let herself silently into the bedroom at the end of the hall and closed the door behind her. Then she removed her cloak and laid it on the bed. She stepped into the center of the room, closed her eyes and began to concentrate fiercely.
She thought about her life before she had come to Collinwood, and about her early days at the great estate. Dozens of images flickered through her mind: David's early hostility, then grudging trust and finally affection that had warmed to love; Roger's attempts to get her to leave and his subsequent acceptance of her; the terror she had known at Matthew Morgan's hands, and her first encounter with the ghost of Josette Collins; the close friendships she had formed with Carolyn and Barnabas, who were, suddenly, revealed to be her sister and her cousin; and the many, many mysteries that were part of Collinwood's shrouded history.
But mostly, Victoria concentrated on her mother, Elizabeth Collins Stoddard. The woman's great beauty and the strong character that had at times been the only thing holding Collinwood together. Her strength, love of family and sense of honor were unshakable. Elizabeth Collins Stoddard . . . Elizabeth Collins Stoddard . . .
She felt warm air rush past her face, and suddenly, the air in the room smelled differently. Victoria recognized the scent instantly; it was the lemon polish that Mrs. Johnson used to keep Collinwood's woodwork gleaming.
Victoria opened her eyes, scanning the room quickly. The furniture was the same, but then, it had been in the room for nearly 200 years. Then, small differences caught her attention.
The coverlet on the bed was different - modern. Quickly, Victoria's eyes travelled to the wall by the door. There was a wall switch to turn on the electric lights.
She was home!!
Victoria grabbed the bedpost, her legs suddenly weak and rubbery. "Home!" she cried out, as tears sprang to her dark eyes. "I'm home! I made it! I . . ."
The door suddenly swung open to reveal Elizabeth in the doorway. "I could have sworn I heard voi-" She stopped suddenly, her eyes widening in shock as she saw Victoria.
I should have guessed before, thought Victoria. I even look a little like her.
Then Elizabeth found her tongue and advanced into the room quickly. "Vicki!" she cried, her voice trembling with emotion. "Vicki, dear, how on earth-"
Victoria went to her, arms outstretched. "I'm back." She swallowed hard and took the plunge. "I've come home, Mother," she said shyly.
Startled, Elizabeth hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second. "Vicki!" she repeated, her tears apparent now. "Vicki, darling . . ." Mother and daughter rushed into each other's arms, their happy tears mingling, hearts overflowing. No more needed to be said.
Victoria had come home.