Saturday, April 4, 2020

The Letters from Essex Falls


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  


Essex Falls, August 1, 1923

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  


Essex Falls, August 31, 1923

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  




Essex Constabulary

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

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