Chapter Twenty-Four

Consequences and Dilemmas

"You know, there's something about the look of this fellow that one really can't help liking." Holding a glass of the Captain's best Madeira in his hand, Bradford Williams stood gazing up at Daniel's portrait.

"My dear Carolyn, I know I've said it before but it bears saying again. If you could just find yourself a man like him." He raised his glass to the painting. "An excellent-looking fellow with a clear eye and a good, strong chin under that beard. He looks like a man who was in full command of his destiny. He's still my idea of a proper sea captain. They certainly don't make them like him anymore."

"No, sadly they do not…" Carolyn glanced at Daniel who was sitting on the window seat watching them with a deepening expression of impatience. "But I'm sure, if he were here tonight, he would have some perfectly awful nineteenth-century ideas about a woman's rightful place in the world. And he certainly wouldn't hesitate to express them."

"And where's the harm with that?" Her father shook his head. "In those days a man was a man. The Captain was his own master and good on him." He drained his glass.

"Bravo," Daniel approved shortly. "I like your father," he said to Carolyn.

He compressed his lips. "Madam, I would have a quiet word with you…"

"Oh, Brad," Emily complained good-naturedly, from her seat beside her daughter on the couch. "You've had too much of that wine. You're imagining things. The Captain Gregg we met was nothing at all like his ancestor. I found him a rather curious man given to funny starts and some very odd utterances. It was almost as if he wasn't a sea captain at all."

"I guess it's this house. His house." Bradford pointed his thumb back at the painting. "It makes you think things and imagine them, too. I almost feel like he's watching us, right now." He looked around the room before frowning down into his empty glass.

"Bradford, you have had too much wine," his wife admonished him. "What a silly idea."

"I don't know so much." Her husband turned to his daughter. "You know, Carolyn, I could swear that when we came in here after dinner I smelt some good cigar smoke. The same brand the Captain gave me when we were here for your wedding to him that didn't happen. Were you entertaining him when we arrived this morning?"

"Not at all. I… maybe it was the fire…" Carolyn replied quickly, remembering her husband had discarded his cigar butt in the flames earlier. "It can smoke a little now and then if the wind's in the wrong direction."

"If you say so." Her father shrugged. "You should get that seen to. Harriet did say your Captain had visited you the first time she came. She didn't meet him then, but she said he left his pipe behind there."

He waved his hand at the coffee table. "She said you were rather secretive about him and wouldn't explain why he was here."

"I don't believe I ever put Harriet in charge of the people I can and cannot see," his daughter shot back impatiently. "And Daniel is no secret. We simply value our privacy. He has his reasons and I respect them."

Her father raised his hand in surrender. "All right, all right. You've made your point. Maybe it is the wine, after all. I must say you do keep an excellent cellar, my dear. If I didn't know better I would say a man chose this for you."

"Well, of course, it was her Captain Gregg." Emily shook her head. "He would buy only the best on his foreign travels. And Carolyn always knew how to choose her household goods wisely."

She turned her attention to her daughter. "But, I will say you are looking a little drawn, dear," she commented solicitously. "You didn't eat much at dinner. Are you sure you're well? You don't look in the best bloom. Has something happened?"

"I wasn't hungry," Carolyn replied quickly, seeing her husband's consternated frown. "It's just a touch of a headache. It'll soon pass."

"I see…" Her mother looked unconvinced. "And have you seen a doctor for this diagnosis? You look done in. I don't like it. You really do need a man to look after you. Surely you can understand that now?"

"I'm perfectly well, Mother, thank you," Carolyn quickly turned her concern aside. "I'll soon be myself again. I've had a lot to do lately what with Christmas and all. And my writing is also keeping me very busy."

"Yes, perhaps…" Emily shook her head. "Harriet did say you were always up in your room, burning the candle at both ends, banging away on that infernal machine. When you lived with us, the sound of its clattering always used to give me a headache."

She sighed. "Well, I won't have you doing too much while we're here. We can look after ourselves. You need to rest and get better. We can organise the Christmas dinner with Martha's help. I'm sure your Captain can supply the refreshments. When he finally decides to put in an appearance. It will be Christmas Eve tomorrow."

"If he can get away in time, I'm sure he'll be here," Carolyn reassured her, praying her mother would finally drop the subject.

Emily frowned. "Where is he now, by the way? You don't think he's cutting it just a bit fine to meet us? You did telephone and invite him over tonight?"

"Of course, Mother. I did that the moment you went upstairs to unpack," Carolyn told the lie with a straight face. "But I'm afraid he was rather tied up and couldn't come at such short notice. Why don't we make Christmas dinner together like we used to do? Just us. The children and I would love that."

"So, your Captain Gregg…" Her father came to sit beside her on the couch. "When can we hope to see him, then? If he's so tied up, as you say." He reached to refill his glass from the decanter on the coffee table.

"Well, I don't know…" Carolyn replied honestly. "He comes and he goes. He appears when he wants to. And leaves the same way."

"I wish to take my leave of you right now," Daniel commented from behind them. "I would have that moment alone with you, my dear."

"Well, that's no way for an honest man to conduct a serious romance," her father commented briskly. "I said he was a slippery, frippery fellow the first time we saw him. It was only Harriet who told us he'd changed out of all recognition. We would like to see him again and judge for ourselves."

He shook his head. "I had the feeling Harriet wasn't telling us the whole truth. All this talk of him giving you flowers and love notes. The Captain we met couldn't string two words together coherently. I think there's something else going on here that you don't wish to tell us about."

"Oh no, the Captain was everything he should be when Harriet was here," Carolyn was quick to reassure him. "He was just very nervous when he met you that first time. He felt he was being pushed into marriage with me. He said he wasn't ready. He likes a long courtship. And he's so busy with his work. I… it's very important to him and he's away a lot."

She cast a helpless look in her husband's direction. He looked none too pleased at the delay, but she couldn't help it. She had no idea what else to say.

Her father shook his head. "That's as may be. But you are more than ready to settle down, my dear. Owen said we were to give you his best and tell you he is prepared to wait for you. Perhaps you are better to cut your losses and come back home with us before it's too late."

He shrugged. "I'm sure that Claymore Gregg fellow would be happy enough to buy the house back from you. We would be prepared to make it well worth his while to do so."

Emily placed her hand on her daughter's arm. "You really must be sensible, dear. For the children's sake, if not your own. Come back to Philadelphia with us after Christmas and you can finally put this spooky old house behind you once and for all. In a few weeks, you'll see it was for the best."

"Over my dead body!" Daniel exclaimed, jumping to his feet to pace the room. "I am not going anywhere, Madam, until this confounding issue is settled once and for all!"

"Oh, no, please…" Carolyn begged. "I can't. And tell Owen he mustn't do that. We could never get married. I do not love him. I never did."

"God's teeth, Madam! Tell them that you're already spoken for!" Daniel demanded. "Or I will!"

Beyond the house, a storm began to rumble. Lightning flashed and the thunder muttered in the distance. Both her parents cast startled glances at the curtained windows. The sound of the storm died as quickly as it blew up.

"That's strange…" Bradford mused. "Where did that come from? I swear this house does things to a man's mind…" He took a long sip of his Madeira, frowning at the windows.

"Very well…" Carolyn sighed as she put a hand to her head. She felt unequal to the task of making anyone see her point of view tonight.

"If you don't mind, I think I will go up early to bed." She stood up, quelling her husband with a frowning look. "It's been a long day. I will see you both in the morning."

"Yes, you do look rather done in…" Emily rose to her feet. "Good night, dear." She kissed her daughter fondly on the cheek. "We'll talk more in the morning. I know you'll see things better when you have slept on it. We will take care of everything."

"Yes, yes…" Bradford nodded, picking up the Madeira decanter to top up his glass. "You go on up. Kiss the children for us. I'll just help myself to some more of this most excellent wine. I must say, your Captain has superb taste. I must ask him if he can ship me a case or two. And a box of those good cigars I was so sure I could smell. When he finally puts in an appearance."

"I will come with you, my dear…" Daniel walked up close behind his wife, wishing he could put his arms around her in comfort. "We need to talk. This situation is fast becoming untenable. I swear they will not succeed in taking you away from me. I would see the whole world burn down around us, first."

"No, please…" Carolyn whispered, making a quick hand movement of dissent. "Thank you, but I'd like to be alone right now… If you don't mind. I… I need some time to think."

"My love, I hate to see you in such distress…" Daniel replied softly, not knowing what more he could do or say to help her.

"Who are you talking to, dear?" Emily frowned at her daughter.

"Oh, just myself…" Carolyn drew a shaky breath. "I do that sometimes when I'm trying to work out a thorny problem. Good night…" She left the room, closing the doors behind her.

"There you have it." Emily turned to her husband. "Harriet said Carolyn was doing a lot of that too. Talking to herself with no one else around. Like there was some imaginary person in the room with her. Do you think we should telephone that Dr McNally she was seeing and ask his advice? It seemed to work out last time."

"Let her sleep on it," Bradford advised, raising a denying hand. "She's just overtired and out of sorts, that's all. I put it down to that Captain of hers not being available when a man should be. She'll come around to our way of thinking soon enough. You'll see."

He got to his feet. "It's obvious that she cannot go on trying to run such a big house like this all on her own. I always said it's too much for a woman to manage."

"Well, if you think so, dear…" Emily looked after her daughter with worried eyes. "She just doesn't seem to be herself these days."

"That'll end as soon as we get her and the children back to civilisation," Bradford asserted confidently. "She'll thank us after she's safely married to Owen."

"I do think this is more an affair of the heart than practical matters," his wife mused. "I fear she's not telling us the whole truth about the Captain. I'm beginning to think they've had a falling out of some sort and she's afraid to tell us about it. That's why he isn't here, tonight. He can't face us."

"Well, don't you two go involving me in any of your women's affairs," her husband replied quickly. "If they've parted ways, then all the better for us. After Christmas, we can remove her and the children to Philadelphia with a clear conscience and finally draw a line under this eccentric house. I know I will feel the better for it."

He raised his glass to the portrait over the fireplace. "In the meantime, me and the Captain are of one mind. I approve of the nineteenth-century idea of leaving the womenfolk to their domestic worries while we men get on with making money and saving the world."

"I need to save my family from you two and your blasted good intentions before it's too late…" Daniel muttered as he stared at the closed doors to the living room. His frown deepened as he slowly dematerialised and went in search of Martha in the kitchen.

※※※※※

"I tell you I heard the pair of them just now, planning and plotting how they are going to spirit Carolyn and the children away from this house, and me, right after Christmas," Daniel declared, as he helped Martha with the dishes. "Mrs Williams has decided we've had a bad falling out and Carolyn will be happy enough to return with them to the city. She's already set her sights on my wife marrying that bonehead, Mitford."

"They always were so sure they knew what's best for Mrs Muir," Martha replied with a grimace. "Mrs Williams was planning a big wedding to marry her to Owen then, as well. That's why your wife ran away from the whole situation in the first place and came here. What are you going to do about it?"

"It seems there's nothing for it. We shall be forced to use Claymore again. I can coach him, even if it takes all night. He will pretend to be me and meet with Carolyn's parents tomorrow. Put their minds at rest so they may leave us in peace. I know it's not ideal, but it's all we've got."

"That man was a jangled bag of nerves last time when Harriet was here." Martha shook her head. "He won't stand up to any such close scrutiny again. Not unless you take him over as you did before. But the Williams aren't blind, no matter how incredible you make him. If Claymore's here long enough they'll soon see Mrs Muir doesn't care a fig for him and then we really will be sunk."

She washed another dish and held it out. "What we need is a more permanent solution. One that will stand up to the test."

"Yes, but what and who?" Daniel sighed, taking the plate from her.

"Search me." Martha shrugged. "But it has to be one that they can be completely happy with. Then they will go back to Philadelphia knowing their daughter has someone strong to take good care of her and the children without interference from anyone else. Especially Cousin Harriet. That I would like to see. But a nervous and scatter-brained Claymore doesn't fit that bill. Maybe no one does."

"Oh, what a tangled web we weave. When first we practice to deceive…" Daniel quoted softly. "I should have appeared to them as myself from the very beginning. Claymore was a very poor substitute and an incompetent fool."

"Now that would have caused quite a stir," Martha replied acerbically, giving a short laugh. "The Williams would have had their daughter and the children packed up in the blink of an eye and shipped back to Philadelphia right sharpish."

She pulled a disgusted face. "Right back into the ever-loving arms of Owen Mitford. Exactly where they want her to be. Need I say more?"

"I heartily detest even the sound of that bounder's name…" Daniel ground his teeth. "A damp squib without a single redeeming feature!"

"Yes, well, a damp squib he may be, but he is the Williams' idea of an ideal son-in-law. He's made very sure of that. For years there have been unsavoury rumours of shady dealings with him and his construction companies. But nothing has ever been proven. The man loves money and power more than anything and he manages to shine like a bright, new dime. As if he's not got a care in the world."

Martha pursed her lips. "He was Bobby Muir's closest friend since childhood and he was supposed to be the best man at their wedding. The only time they ever had a falling out was when Bobby managed to wed Mrs Muir and take her away from him."

She shook her head. "Owen never forgave him and he's been trying to win her back ever since. He's wormed his way deep into Mr and Mrs Williams' good graces. He's made sure he knows all the right people, says all the right things and is a member of all the right clubs. You could call him a positive paragon of virtue. And he intends to be the one marrying your wife this time."

"Then I detest him even more! I've always thought of him as nothing more than a flotsam-faced faker. I should hang him by his heels from the mast and let the gulls peck at him."

"Of course, he's a faker. But he's very good at it." Martha looked Daniel up and down sympathetically. "You, on the other hand…"

She chuckled richly. "Well, I know who I'd choose if I was twenty years younger and it surely wouldn't be the damp squib. But Owen doesn't like taking no for an answer."

"So, the miserable wart is a corrupt cockleshell and he's turned himself into their ideal son-in-law, has he?" Daniel complained with a scowl. "What does he have that I don't?"

"A pulse…" Martha shrugged. "I'm sorry, but it has to be said that your being dead is a decided disadvantage."

"But I am no longer dead." Daniel defended his point. "Well, not all the time and I—"

He stopped to frown into the middle distance, stroking his beard as the thoughtful look in his eyes intensified into a decision. "If only there was a way to dispose of the deplorable Mitford for all eternity. Bombard his masts and run him fast aground. Then he wouldn't be seaworthy enough to try and take Carolyn away from me ever again."

"I like the sound of that a lot. But I can't see how it could be done. He's far too slippery." Martha regarded him with deep suspicion as she put away the last of the dried dishes. "What's going around in that fertile mind of yours? You've up to something and I'm not at all sure I'm going to like whatever it is. And I'm also very sure Mrs Muir won't like it either. You look positively devilish."

Daniel shrugged. "The Williams' have a desire to meet their ideal son-in-law. Someone who fits the bill better than that blasted Mitford. Someone who will banish him completely from their minds as a suitable suitor for their daughter. In short, a man who can show them he truly knows how to take good care of his affairs and his lady."

He stroked his beard. "A man that they will soon see is his own master and in absolute command of his destiny."

"They will?" Martha stared at him in utter fascination. "I can't see how we could possibly find anyone who could pull that miracle off. Not if we had all the time in the world, which we don't. It would take a great deal of nerve and some very good skills at making illusions seem real. Claymore could never do that."

"No, Claymore could never do that…" Daniel mused. "But I wasn't talking about him."

"Then what's the use in wishing for what we don't have?" Martha shrugged before she saw his expression. "Oh, no…" Her hand went to her mouth. "You can't. Oh, no, you wouldn't…"

"I can and I will. The time has finally come for us to lay all our cards on the table," Daniel replied decisively. "When you hear the doorbell ring, Martha, be a dear and answer it…" He dematerialised.

"You come back here!" Martha hissed, looking all around the kitchen. "I don't like this. I don't like this one little bit! What's Mrs Muir going to say when she finds out you've gone and done something you shouldn't have? Then you'll really wish you were still dead!"

"You don't have to like it," Daniel's disembodied voice floated back to her. "You just need to play along. Make sure you answer the front door when the bell rings…"

※※※※※

Seated side by side in the living room, Carolyn's parents were hatching their plans for their daughter's future. Or more correctly, Emily was voicing her motherly ideas and warming to her theme. Bradford was a little flushed from imbibing one glass too many of the Madeira, but he was doing his best to keep up.

"I do think a spring wedding would be best," Emily proposed with decision. "I am sure Owen can secure us the country club for the reception. He knows all the right contacts. It will be an elegant affair. As soon as Christmas is over, we can start making out the guest list."

"Are you sure that's such a good idea?" her husband asked worriedly. "I mean, Carolyn might have something to say about us making plans for her without her knowledge or consent. I know she won't like it any better than last time."

"The sooner we strike, the sooner she will forget all about this house and that man." Emily flicked a dismissive hand at the portrait above the fireplace. "Harriet was half convinced our daughter has been conducting some kind of odd romance with the memory of a man who's been dead for over a hundred years. I think Carolyn has been making too much of those journals she was given. She always did have a very vivid imagination."

She frowned. "Writing his memoirs, indeed. Harriet didn't see any evidence of Carolyn doing any such thing when she was here. She was also very secretive about that, as well. I say it is all rather suspicious. If we hadn't already met him, I could almost swear her Captain Gregg doesn't even exist."

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Both looked up to the closed living room doors.

"I wonder who that could be at this time of night…" Emily questioned.

The bell rang again, more impatient this time. Bradford rose to his feet. "Maybe I should get that…"

"I'll get it," Martha called from the kitchen, hurrying into the foyer.

She walked to the front door with great reluctance as the bell sounded a third time. She opened the door a crack to peer out.

A tall, broad-shouldered man was standing there, wearing a seaman's cap set at a jaunty angle. He watched her stunned, open-mouthed reaction with sardonic amusement.

Dressed in a cream, roll-neck sweater with a dark naval jacket and trousers, he looked every inch a seaman and too good to be true. Which, of course, he was.

"Go away!" Martha instructed in a terse whisper. "You can't do this. This is not going to work! You'll ruin everything…"

"I disagree." Daniel shook his head. "Have courage, Martha. This one night's work will solve everything and clear the way for our future together. Mitford will be sunk without a trace. Just let me in."

"No!" Martha snapped, as she tried to shut the door again.

But her unwanted caller was far stronger and more determined. He wedged himself into the opening, putting out one hand to push the door wider.

"Martha…?" Emily walked into the foyer. "Who is it at the door?"

"Oh, nobody, Mrs Williams," Martha lied briskly. "They've got the wrong house." She turned back with a dismissive smile. "Ah, we don't want any. But thank you for calling…"

"Thank you, Martha. But it's too late for you to try and turn me away now. My mind is made up." Daniel pushed the door open against her equally determined attempts to bar him from coming inside.

"Besides, Mrs Williams knows I'm here. I'd say the cat's already escaped from the bag." He smiled down at the housekeeper with deeply amused wickedness in his eyes, patting her shoulder. "I know you're only trying to help us and we love you for it but we need to do this. It's past time."

"Well, I still say, beat it, Mister…" Martha whispered fiercely, still doing her best to push him back even though her heart was no longer in it. "You can't flannel me with your darling silver tongue…" She sighed despite her worried opposition.

"Oh, Martha…" Daniel's smile widened. "Thank you, for everything…"

He shook his head at her. "But it is well past my time to take centre stage…" He bent down to kiss her soundly on the cheek.

"Captain, you really do like to try the patience of a saint…" Martha sighed again, shaking her finger at him. "And I'm no saint."

"Martha!" Emily Williams declared in a shocked tone. "What are you doing with that man? That's no way to treat a guest in this house. Please, allow the gentleman to enter."

"Ah, no, no, no…" Daniel crooned, smiling broadly as he strolled into the foyer as if he owned it. "Do not scold her. Truly there's no harm done. It is nothing but a sweet bit of banter between old friends. Martha knows me all too well, don't you?"

He winked at her. "You could say I'm quite the revelation."

"I could also say it's your funeral. Because Mrs Muir is going to kill you when she finds out…" Martha whispered fiercely, giving up the fight to become a deeply interested bystander in the incredible events unfolding before her.

Daniel approached Emily, who was watching him with confused fascination. "It is all my own doing for calling at such a late hour. I must beg your forgiveness and ask that you accept my deepest, most sincere apologies, Madam."

Taking her hand, he raised it toward his lips. "You are lovelier even than your daughter. And she is a beauty beyond compare." He bent his head to kiss the backs of her fingers with effortless grace.

"Why, thank you…" Emily looked him over with deep curiosity, seeming not the believe the evidence of her own eyes. "And you are?"

"Oh, do please forgive me," Daniel smiled as he released her, straightening to his full height. "I am Captain Daniel Gregg. Very much at your charming service." He touched two fingers to the brim of his sea cap.

"You are Captain Gregg?" Emily stared at him, totally mesmerised. "Carolyn's Captain Gregg? But I thought..."

She turned to stare through the open doors behind her at the portrait above the fireplace, clearly seeing the close likeness between the man and the painted image. "I don't understand. What about that other Captain Gregg? The one we met last time?"

"A most pale and insipid imitation. There is only one and I am he," Daniel assured her confidently. He bowed again. "If I may venture to ask, where is your most charming daughter? I must talk with her before we confess all to you."

At that moment, Carolyn appeared at the top of the stairs to look down. "Martha? Who was that at the door just now? I thought I heard the bell."

"It is only I, my dear…" Daniel advanced to the foot of the staircase to gaze up at her with a pleading look in his eyes. "Distressingly late as I often am and full of abject apologies for my tardiness. Please, do say you can forgive me and allow me time to explain."

"Daniel…?" Carolyn's hand crept up to her pale cheek as she stared down at him in utter disbelief. "What's going on? Why are you here like this? And with my mother, too. I… I don't understand…"

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