Jules Pollack has an old aunt, Matilda Berkeley. She has always been a
free-willed lady, and she has been in on- and off touch with Jules since Jules
was a teenager. Matilda has been married three times without having children, she
has travelled to and fro in Asia, Africa and Europe, and she has been
particularly interested in other cultures as a form of amateur anthropologist.
Auntie Tilda used to send Jules all kinds of knick-knacks and odd items, and
this contributed greatly to Jules’ early interest in antiques. Auntie Tilda has
dropped by J. Pollack Fine Antiques on one or two occasions, and she has met
Mackie, Henry and Moira over tea at least once. She is indeed spirited, and
despite her advanced age, she is witty, curious and engaged.
During Auntie Tilda’s most recent visit to Arkham, she told Jules that
she is actually looking for a new place to live, since she has spent far too
many years alternating between travel, New York and Boston. She said she was
looking for something relatively spacious, so that she could entertain, but
also in a “delightful rural environment”. Jules did spend a couple of weekends
showing Auntie Tilda various quaint New England towns, and Auntie Tilda sent
letters to Jules Pollack regarding her activities, as follows:
Auntie Tilda
Brooklyn, May 25, 1923
Dear Julie,
As you know, I have been looking for a house for quite some time, and I
may have found not only a house, but The House! I spent last weekend
perambulating through Essex Falls, the town you showed me just a couple of
months ago. Essex Falls may be one of the most adorable hamlets I have ever
seen, and it has everything I need: two general stores (Grover’s and The Bob
Tillinghast General Store), a small tavern called Rosie’s, the Essex Diner, and
half a dozen various small stores and businesses. Perkins Hill, just west of
Essex Falls, has some delightful pathways for hiking, and the Essex Brooke
supposedly has great trout fishing, although as you know I prefer shopping for
fish and such.
The house, which is aptly called Hampton Hill House, has a fully
finished exterior gaily painted white, although there is some work that needs
to be done inside. The rooms are spacious, well-lit, and several rooms are
wired for electricity. The kitchen is old, but I will of course modernize it. I
also need to hire a maid or a butler to take care of everyday matters.
I also did have a great conversation with Pastor Moore of the St. Agnes Episcopalian
Church, and they have all kinds of activities that seem rewarding in every way.
He told me a bit about the previous owner, a Mrs. Cooper, who apparently saw
several very tragic events during her long, long life. Such sad stories! The
Pastor also told me about the Unitarian Church of Eastern Slavonic Orthodox
Catholicism, which apparently is a small congregation in the northern side of
town, and a rather quirky one to boot.
The theological concepts behind this church were more than a little
obscure, but rather interesting. I will have to visit them some day.
Toodles!
-
Tilda
Hampton Hill House
Boston, June 1, 1923
Dear Julie,
I have, as you see, relocated to Boston to take care of the final
arrangements before I move into Hampton Hill House, but I did get to spend my
first night in the house just yesterday after enjoying dinner with Pastor Moore
and his family. His wife Martha is a fantastic cook, and the Pastor played the
piano for us after dinner. Pastor Moore also told me a bit more about Mrs.
Abigail Cooper, the previous owner of the house. Her husband apparently bought
the house from the previous owner, a Bartholomew Pickman, back in 1860, just
before the outbreak of the Civil War (!). Mr. Pickman had built the house
almost entirely by himself, but he did get affliction, and had to move out and
sell the house ten years after completing Hampton Hill House.
Now, Mrs. Abigail Cooper, neé Young, was an interesting, albeit tragic,
character. She was widowed early, and apparently estranged by her only child,
Agatha Cooper. Mrs. Cooper did inherit a relatively significant amount of
monies from her late husband Andrew, and she invested a significant portion of
her inheritance into the Routledge & Sons shipping company located in
Boston. The investments paid off, but her lifestyle became increasingly isolated
over the course of the next several decades. She very rarely entertained after
she turned 50 in 1880, and the Pastor told me that several of her staff passed
away in a most untimely fashion. A maid drowned in the Essex Brook, two butlers
died from a disease that seems to have been typhoid fever, and the gardener
died in what was reported as a bizarre gardening accident. Little Essex Falls
eventually started cultivating all kinds of rumors and stories about poor Mrs.
Cooper, and she even looked the part of a cursed or even bewitched old lady:
thin to the point of consumption, very conservatively dressed in garments of
mourning, but apparently possessing steely eyes that could penetrate a man’s
soul as well as a matching iron will. She also did not appreciate children, and
this led to a plethora of Hansl and Gretl-style rumors regarding the activities
of Mrs. Cooper. However, to me this seems more of a case of a lifetime of
disappointment. I do hope that Mrs. Cooper did have some sort of source for
happiness, be it a plentitude of lovers, great love for art, or a mix of both.
Toodles!
-
Tilda
Mrs. Agatha Cooper
Essex Falls, June 15, 1923
Dear Julie,
I am finally moving in! The moving company dispatched my belongings last
week, and I have had a furnishing company from Boston come in and remodel
Hampton Hill into a rather stately abode. Oh, the soirées I will hold, the
dinners I will host, and the garden parties I look forward to sending
invitations to! This will be grand, and I am looking forward to inviting you
and your friends, Ms. MacKenzie, Ms. Baker and Mr. Chester over as soon as
possible.
Toodles!
-
Tilda
Essex Falls, June 30, 1923
Dear Julie,
I am sending you a short letter just to tell you that I am doing quite
well and very much enjoying my new residence in Hampton Hill House. I did find
a maid, a butler and part-time gardener, so the house is up and running after
some initial reconstructions and renovation.
I took the liberty of asking Pastor Moore to help me with invitations to
include interesting and amusing guests for a gathering in my garden to make
suitable introductions. I also walked over to the Unitarian Church of Eastern
Slavonic Orthodox Catholicism to give them an invitation, but although the
rather rude caretaker did accept the invitation, I did not get an RSVP.
However, Mayor Paul Tibbets did attend the party, as well as notables from
Arkham to Newburyport who were in attendance. A splendid time was had indeed!
Toodles!
-
Tilda
Essex Falls, July 14, 1923
Dear Julie,
Happy Bastille Day! Well, I can’t say that I am celebrating the national
day of the French myself, but I displayed my copy of Les Miserables next to the Croix
de Guerre that your uncle George was awarded during the Great War. The
summer in Essex Falls is quite relaxing, and I have been enjoying long walks as
well as a seaside visit to the posh Wavecrest Inn, which is located in Martin’s
Beach. If you have the opportunity, do give Martin’s Beach a visit. It is
positively choked during the summer, and there are so many amusements and
diversions to engage in.
I have spent quite a bit of time at Rosie’s, since my butler took sick,
and left me without properly cooked meals. Poor Ephraim Cox, he is really not
doing that well, and I have visited his family with care packages and such.
Mrs. Cox claimed that he was far too ill to see me, but I left the packages with
her together with a small bouquet of flowers.
Rosie’s, on the other hand, has provided a most amusing distraction, I
have been socializing with a Mr. Egon Wierzbowski, who claims he is from Polish
nobility (I do not believe him for a second), and Ms. Patricia Abernathy, who’s
the chair of the Essex Falls Historical Society. Great times have been had, and
I am signing off with a
Toodles!
-
Tilda
Dear Julie,
Essex Falls is resplendent in the full vestige of summer. My garden is
growing most forcefully, and I very much enjoy walking around the garden in the
early morning when the scents are really powerful and at time to the point of
being overwhelming. But despite the grandeur of the season, I have had to deal
with a most unfortunate situation. My maid, Sylvia Rosenstein, was hit by an
automobile just this morning, and I am very concerned about her health. It
seems as she has suffered both legs broken in various locations, and I worry
for her a lot. I am, of course, taking care of her needs, but I these
circumstances are more than a bit distressing. You know that I can take good
care of myself, but I am so much more worried about both Miss Rosenstein as
well as Mr. Cox.
Toodles!
-
Tilda
Essex Falls, August 13, 1923
Dear Jules,
I just picked some seemingly ripe plums off my tree, and although two
were amazingly juicy and luscious, the third one was a revolting mess of rot
and mildew. I have to assume that this, to some degree, is a metaphor for this summer
at Hampton Hill House. Several great moments rudely interrupted by real
disappointments. Mr. Cox is now hospitalized, although the current prognosis
seems auspicious, and Ms. Rosenstein will have to be confined to a life on
crutches. It is all very saddening. The part-time gardener that I rely on, Mr.
Simmons, has been really supportive, but I cannot help thinking of Mrs. Coopers
misfortunes.
That being said, Essex Falls continues to grow on me: It is the best of
New England, and I feel a great sense of belonging.
Toodles!
-
Tilda
Dearest Julie,
Last evening I hosted a fantastic dinner with Mayor Tibbets and his
family, and I was so glad to have the help of a, or rather my, new butler. He
is named Joseph West, and he is a strapping 27-year old from Innsmouth. I
entertained a good 20 guests, and we were all up until the wee hours of the
morning, discussing both this and that, high and low. I was hoping to sleep in
on a Sunday morning, but my sleep was interrupted at no less than 9 AM by the sound
of glass being shattered and loud chanting as well as cries for “Mts. Cooper”
to come out. I donned my morning coat and dashed out onto the portico only to
see what seemed to be a Russian Orthodox priest in full vestments burning
incense in front of my porch. Young Master West stepped out on the front porch
with baseball bat in his right hand, and he told the priest to leave, which he
did after gazing in a most hostile manner towards myself and my butler. Later
that day, I did ask Mayor Tibbets about the incident, and he told me that I had
just encountered “Bishop” Innocentius of the Unitarian Church of Eastern
Slavonic Orthodox Catholicism. Oh well, it takes all kinds, I guess. I really
have no idea why he would do this. The person must be delusional.
Toodles!
-
Tilda
Essex Falls, September 6, 1923
Dear Julie,
The incident with so-called bishop weighs more heavily on me than I
would have thought. I have been rather distraught over these last few days, and
I have had a difficult time sleeping. There is a weird sense of compression
over my chest just as I think I have fallen asleep, and I wake up startled.
Once I even thought I saw the image of Mrs. Cooper standing staring at me
through the bedroom window, but that was in one of these states when you are
not entirely sure if you are awake or sleeping, and yet you cannot move a
muscle. I may very well be stressed by some of the events of the summer, but
the days still bring me such enjoyment. The apple trees in the back yard are
full of apples that promise to be delicious in a week or two, and both Mr. Wierzbowski
and Ms. Abernathy came over to visit for lunch today. I do hope I get a good
night’s sleep this evening!
Toodles!
-
Tilda
Essex Falls, September 26, 1923
Dearest Jules,
It is now definitely fall on Hampton Hill. The leaves are turning, and we’ve had a few days of autumnal rains. The apples that I had such high hopes for turned out to be quite the disappointment, though, and they were almost entirely tasteless, despite their impressive size and vivid color. It still gives me significant pleasure to sit in my rocking chair on the front porch and gaze out over Hampton Hill and Essex Falls, but sleep remains hard to come by, at least at night.
Mr. West, my butler, has also been quite ill, and although I told him to
take time off and perhaps go visit his family in Innsmouth, he has been most
reluctant to do so. Instead the poor man hacks and coughs through the day and
most of the night. Mr. West has also lost a lot of weight, and I do wish he’d
take my advice. Mr. Simmons, the gardener, still helps out a bit, but he is
only in twice a week to tidy my dear garden. Anyway, I am considering taking a
holiday, and perhaps go back to the Wavecrest in Martin’s Beach for bit. Some
Atlantic air might do me well.
Toodles!
-
Tilda
Essex Falls, October 10, 1923
Dear Jules,
I just learned that Mr. Cox, the butler I previously hired, passed away
from consumption last evening. The funeral will be held on Sunday, and I am
beyond grief.
I am really considering selling the house, or at least renting it out to
someone. I still have a difficult time sleeping, or rather staying asleep, and
I seem to have some fixation with the notion of the late Mrs. Cooper gazing at
me through the window at night. Not even the rocking chair and the front porch
is giving any solace, and I feel constantly antsy, yet utterly exhausted. I’ll
write more later.
Toodles,
-
Tilda
112 Main Street
Essex
October 19, 1923
Dear Mr. Pollack,
It is my sad duty to inform you that Mrs. Matilda Berkeley has been
found dead outside her property at 32 Hill Lane in Essex Falls. Being that you
are related to her, we have to ask you to come to the Essex Constabulary to
identify the remains and to make any funerary arrangements.
Respectfully,
Arthur P. Vaughn
Constable
