Chapter Two

Uncle Claymore

Carolyn stared through the dusty window of the creaking coach at the passing late summer scene. She wished she could step outside and breathe fresh air. It was close and stuffy inside and smelled of onions. But there was no escape. The window catch had been broken off and it would not pull down.

Carolyn pressed her open palm against the cool glass. She longed for the tedious journey to be over. They'd already spent three long days on the road and she felt restless and ill at ease. Her poor children were heartily sick of the constant rocking that seemed to have no end in sight.

Her father had shown her Claymore Gregg's letter and presented the proposal that she would move to the Maine coast to work as her uncle's clerk of office, as soon as his agreement could be secured. Bradford had already written to his brother-in-law, laying out his proposal.

"I see…" Carolyn had toyed with her dessert. "If that is your wish, Father. It seems I have no other choice."

"It truly will be for the best, you'll see," her father had replied, his harried expression pleading. "Your mother just needs some peace and quiet. Her nerves are so easily overset if things do not go her way. I doubt she will ever recover from your unwise elopement."

He'd glanced at his wife, but Emily hadn't been paying attention. With her daughter's future finally decided, her whole focus had been on consuming her dessert.

Carolyn's father had leaned closer. "Give me some time and I might be able to bring you back to the city. Maybe in six months, when your mother has had time to reflect. You'll see. We just have to make the best of it, for now."

He'd shaken his head. "You should know, your uncle well understands the value of a dollar and he watches them all very carefully. No doubt he will wish to pay you less than a man because of your gender. It cannot be helped, I'm afraid. Try not to get on his bad side, and you should be fine."

"But I can no longer stay here with you?"

"I'm sorry, my dear, but your mother is too easily overset. If you were to find yourself a suitable husband in Maine…" He'd trailed off looking deeply harassed and Carolyn had taken pity on him. It wasn't her father's fault that she'd inherited her mother's deeply stubborn streak.

"I will try to bring you all home for a Christmas visit," her father had continued wearily. "But I cannot make any promises. Your mother wishes to take an extended trip to warmer climes for her nerves and aching joints. We may very well shut up the house and go south for the winter months."

"I see…" Carolyn had nodded, understanding all her father hadn't said.

She didn't know if she should feel relieved or sad to be leaving her parents' house and all the emotional turmoil behind. Only her compliance had been sought. No one had asked for her opinion.

Her uncle had quickly agreed by return mail, saying how relieved he was. It appeared his plight was dire indeed, even though he did express his deep concerns that a mere woman couldn't possibly be as good with figures as a man.

He did not make any mention of the children or their dog. It seemed his brother-in-law's monetary offer of suitable compensation had soothed his expected disquiet.

Which was why Carolyn was now aboard the mail coach with her children, Candy and Jonathan. Accompanied by her trusted servant and good friend, Martha, they slowly bumped and lurched their way toward a dubious future of servitude. Scruffy was curled at her feet, whining in his sleep.

Two other people also occupied the cramped inside space. An old man who talked constantly to himself even in his sleep and a tall, thin woman, with a large wart on the end of her nose, who frowned direfully at the children whenever they moved or spoke. She ignored Scruffy after her first baleful glare at the animal.

The cumbersome vehicle rumbled through yet another large pothole, making it lurch once more and the outside passengers clinging to the roof shouted another round of voluble curses at the carelessness of the driver. He sneered at their abuse.

Carolyn was sure the man delighted in running through every known pot-hole all the way from Philadelphia to the distant wilds of the Maine shore. Their destination of Schooner Bay seemed as unobtainable as the moon.

"Will we be there soon, Mother?" Jonathan, her younger child asked yet again, in a tired, fed-up tone. "I don't feel very well. And it smells in here." He waved a disgusted hand in front of his small nose.

"I'm sure it cannot be much longer now." Carolyn drew his wilting body closer to her side with an arm around his shoulders. "I think I can finally smell the ocean. Maybe we will be able to find a beach for you to play on and build your sandcastles."

Her eyes met Martha's sympathetic look across the carriage. Candy lay sleeping with her head on the older woman's lap.

"If he could manage to build us a three bed-roomed house there, we could all move in." Martha shook her head. "From what I've heard, there's nothing but fishermen and pirates in Maine. We'd better learn quick which way the wind blows…" She pulled a face, waving one hand in front of her nose.

"Then mayhap it's as well I'm not looking for a man," Carolyn replied. "All I need is some much-needed peace and quiet and my own thoughts. I am sure I will be busy enough in my uncle's office."

"I will say you have been looking too pale and pulled about of late," Martha said sympathetically. "I have never regretted remaining single."

"You were lucky to have had the choice." Carolyn shook her head, turning Robert's wedding ring around her finger.

The coach bounced through one last, watery pothole before the driver called out, "Schooner Bay ahead! Those who're going ashore better get ready to get out. This coach is turnin' around in thirty minutes and ya better not still be on it." He chuckled richly at a joke only he seemed to understand.

The vehicle lurched to a halt, swaying on its springs. The horses fidgeted and pulled against their traces, eager to be gone to their warm stable.

"I've a good mind to report him to the coach line," Martha grumbled as she began to collect their things.

"Won't do ya no good," the thin woman with the large wart on her nose replied, as she gathered her bags. "Man's always been a law unto his 'self. Like a lot of 'em 'round here. The seamen be the worst. Always demanding, never happy with a body's hard work. I should know, I work my poor fingers to da bone for one of 'em. And it's a poor gratitude I's get."

She shrugged fatalistically as she opened the door, stepped out onto the wooden planking of the sidewalk and hurried away. The old man went next, still conversing with himself. The Muir family was the last to alight.

Carolyn followed Martha and the children. She looked around with interest. Schooner Bay was not the ramshackle hovel her mother was sure it would turn out to be. It was small and quaint and very New England in its styling.

An onshore breeze was blowing, bringing the salty scents of the ocean. It tugged at her long blond curls, making them dance beneath the shelter of her bonnet.

Carolyn breathed deeply and sighed with relief. She liked the town immediately and its sense of freedom.

"Well, the big city it is not," Martha pronounced, watching the driver pile up their luggage on the sandy wooden planks of the sidewalk.

Scruffy jumped down from the coach and began to sniff around. He looked pleased to be finally free of his confinement.

"I think it will serve our purposes nicely." Carolyn nodded. "How many eligible men could possibly occupy such a tiny hamlet as this?"

"Mrs Carolyn Muir?" a curt male voice inquired from behind her.

"Yes?" Carolyn turned to find a tall, lean man standing behind her, his blue eyes full of deep disapproval behind his square, wire-rimmed spectacles.

"I am your Uncle Claymore." The man raised his hat before bowing his head sharply. "I am pleased to see you are, at least, punctual."

"Good afternoon, Uncle. And if we are on time, then it must be some kind of miracle."

"The coachman is a rascal, but he prides himself on his timekeeping," Claymore Gregg replied repressively. "A virtue I also require in anyone who works for me. I insist on strict punctuality in all our dealings. Sadly, my last clerk was too tardy in his attendance so I was forced to dismiss him."

Again, his eyes swept over her disapprovingly. He sighed when he glanced at the children clustered close to her sides watching him with wide eyes.

Scruffy had returned to sit at their feet. The dog, who had never previously bothered anyone, seemed to have a fascination for one of Claymore's trouser legs. He stared at it fixedly and gave a little growl which earned him a warning glare from Carolyn's uncle.

"Jonathan and Candy…" Carolyn hurried to encourage, waving her hand at the dog to quieten him. "Please, do not forget your manners."

The two children nodded to their great-uncle, remembering their mother's strict instructions to show him their best manners at all times, for her sake.

"Good afternoon, Great-Uncle Claymore," they chanted in unison.

"Children…" Claymore's expression soured further. He looked back at Carolyn. "I must insist that they not be seen and certainly never heard. I trust they have been trained to know what is expected of them?"

"Of course," Carolyn assured him quickly, looking significantly at Martha.

"This is my companion, Miss Martha Grant." She indicated her friend and confidante. "She will be in charge of the children while I attend to my clerical duties in your office."

"Very well," Claymore barely acknowledged the older woman. "I have employed a boy with a cart to convey your luggage. Follow me and I will show you to your cottage."

He turned to wave an impatient hand at a small, untidy boy standing beside a two-wheeled cart. He hurried forward to load the Muirs' boxes and cases. The two women tried to help but he shooed them away with anxious hands.

"My job…" he muttered, keeping a wary eye on Claymore. "He don't pay if I don't work."

"How awful…" Carolyn glanced at her uncle.

"This way and do not tarry. I don't have any more time to waste." Claymore frowned at the pocket watch he'd pulled from his waistcoat pocket before he turned on his heel to lead the way down the wooden sidewalk. He didn't look back to see if they followed.

"Sunny soul, isn't he?" Martha muttered in an aside to Carolyn as they dutifully trooped after their stern host. "I'd hate to meet him when he's in a really bad mood."

"We will just have to make the best of it," Carolyn replied quietly. "I am sure once I have proven myself as his clerk, he will revise his opinion and be a bit more accommodating."

"I doubt it. Something tells me that nothing will change that man's mind once he's made it up." Martha sighed, as Claymore stepped off the sidewalk before turning a corner down a narrow side street.

"Here it is." He stopped to open a gate set in a picket fence.

A stone path led up to a small, cramped-looking cottage. Its sad aspect was not inviting. Any view of the sea was blocked by other buildings.

The two women exchanged significant glances. Claymore stood aside, indicating they were all to go before him up the path. He pulled a ring of keys from his coat pocket, holding them out for Carolyn to accept as she passed him.

"It doesn't look very big," she said worriedly.

Claymore shrugged. "I was expecting to accommodate a single man, not a family. You will have to make the best of it that you can."

Carolyn turned to him. "You have nothing else available?"

"All my housing stock is in summer rentals. The season is not yet at an end," Claymore told her repressively. "You are fortunate this house was available at such short notice."

"Very fortunate…" Martha shook her head as Carolyn unlocked and opened the front door.

The house was just as sad-looking on the inside. Dark and cramped, it smelled of dust and dampness.

"People pay you good money to stay here?" Carolyn raised her eyebrows at her uncle.

"Well, no… not recently," Claymore admitted reluctantly. "I haven't had the time to get it swept and cleaned."

His dour expression brightened. "It's just as well then that you're a woman."

He glanced significantly at Martha. "I'm sure the two of you will soon have it set to rights in no time at all."

"I'm sure we can do something with it." Carolyn regarded him with resignation.

"We'd need a hurricane to come through here to blow out all the dust and cobwebs." Martha shrugged.

"It's the best vacancy I have." Claymore replied stiffly. "At this time of year, I am very busy putting the 'sea' into the tourist's 'season.'" He smiled wryly at his own small joke. "It's a matter of take it or leave it."

"Then it will have to do." Carolyn shook her head.

Obviously, her uncle was very pleased that he would have his property cleaned and tidied at no cost to him. She was quickly getting the measure of the man. Money mattered to him more than anything, just as her father had warned.

"I shall leave you to settle in, then." Claymore raised his hat once more. "The boy will bring in your bags. He will also return sharply at ten minutes to the hour of eight in the morning to conduct you to my office. I do not expect to come looking for you."

He stopped to glare down at Scruffy who immediately growled back at him. Afraid for his pet, Jonathan grabbed the animal's collar and dragged him back before he could get a chance to worry at Claymore's trouser cuff.

"I do not approve of my tenants keeping pets," his great uncle complained. "Make sure you keep that mutt chained up and out of sight."

Turning sharply, he stopped beside the cart boy to give him his orders before Claymore departed the property and closed the gate behind him. He walked away and did not once look back.

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