Chapter Seven

The Christmas Present

Claymore sat hunched over his ledgers, puffing on his long-stemmed pipe. He didn't look up when the office door opened and then closed. He blew a discontented sigh wreathed in smoke, having no time for inconvenient interruptions.

There was important work still to do before he closed the office for the one day of the year. He begrudged that too.

Carolyn sat silently on her stool, keeping her eyes down as she worked diligently. She knew who'd just walked in, but she gave no sign of knowing. She had donned a pair of white cotton gloves to conceal her engagement ring from her uncle's gaze until Daniel was ready to inform him of their plans for her future.

"Always with the interruptions…" Claymore muttered as he finally looked up to see his cousin standing watching him with a thoughtful expression. "Oh, so you're back again, Cousin," he declared crossly, putting aside his clay pipe. "What ill wind has blown you my way, this time?" He slanted a resigned look at Carolyn. "As if I didn't know. Well, I don't have the time right now to indulge another of your whims. We're busy. You know where the door is."

He turned back to his ledgers, picking up his feather quill. He settled deeper into his chair, hunching his shoulders and studiously ignoring the fact his cousin was still watching him.

"I have come to extract a heartfelt apology from your petty conniver's heart," Daniel replied evenly, removing his sea cap. "And your solemn promise to do better from now on or it will be the worst for you."

"Apology?" Claymore spluttered, turning back to glare at him. "To whom and for what? I pride myself on owing nothing to nobody. Never have, never will."

"You owe one to Mrs Muir…" Daniel indicated his fiancée with his cap. "For withholding her father's letters from her, which were hers by right. And for your general nit-picking ways to everyone around you."

"I did no such thing!" Claymore waved his feather quill pen with indignation. He stopped, his eyes narrowing. "Who says I did?"

"The town's postmaster," Daniel replied with a grim smile. "When I asked him this morning he was only too willing to confess the truth. It had been weighing heavily on his mind, Mrs Muir being such a lovely lady and undeserving of such despicable treatment. He said you'd greased his palm very well to look the other way. I knew you were up for all sorts of low-down tricks, but this one is unforgivable."

"It kept your lady love in town for you to squire around, didn't it?" Claymore defended himself with a sneer. "I had very good reasons. I needed a clerk and she's a good one, even if she is a woman. Her father was perfectly satisfied to leave her here in my charge. I took great care to answer every one of his letters in the most glowing of terms."

He waved his quill pen. "It was all going very well until you interfered."

"The decision was never yours to make," Daniel reminded him hardly. "Mrs Muir is a free woman to come and go as she pleases. And if she chose to leave Schooner Bay, then that is her right."

He glanced at Carolyn and smiled. "Of course, I would have followed her all the way to Philadelphia. She would not escape me that easily."

He looked back at his cousin and his smile vanished. "Therefore, your dubious assistance in my affairs would not have been needed."

"Yes, well…" Claymore picked up his pipe and puffed on it briskly, wreathing himself in a convenient screen of fragrant smoke. "Water under the bridge now. Let's not rake over old bones. I'll fix it. I will happily hand over all the letters. I have no further use for them."

"You cannot escape that easily, Cousin. I think your treacherous perfidy requires a suitable penalty," his cousin continued as if Claymore hadn't spoken. "It will serve to teach you a lesson you will not soon forget."

"Penalty?" Claymore's voice rose as he puffed harder in his pipe. "What sort of penalty? I mean, why? I have done nothing wrong but provide a roof over the heads of my brother-in-law's family and suitable employment. You cannot blame a man for that."

"Oh, I don't know. But I'm sure Mrs Muir would disagree wholeheartedly with your assessment." Daniel glanced again at Carolyn to see she was watching him with wide-eyed fascination. "I think perhaps a raise of another two dollars a week for her would be a good start."

"Another two dollars?" Claymore coughed as he nearly swallowed his pipe stem. "I won't pay it! You can't make me! Why that's… that's highway robbery!"

"Or I could go to the postmaster general and tell him all about your interference with the mail service. That is an offence worthy of a lengthy gaol sentence."

"I… you wouldn't dare!" Claymore glared at Carolyn. "It's all her fault! Until she came to town you didn't meddle so much in my affairs! She has you bewitched, Cousin, and no mistake."

"You will do better to curb your tongue. Mrs Muir and I are engaged to be married," Daniel stated firmly. "I will thank you not to sully the good name of my intended with your dastardly lies."

"Engaged, is it?" Claymore blinked. "My stars, oh, I don't believe it. You've finally been landed, hook, line and sinker." He chuckled. "Oh, that is a rich jest, indeed."

"In future, you will mind what you say or it will be the worse for you, Cousin." Daniel tugged his sea cap down over his dark hair. "Now, what is it to be? Gaol or a two-dollar raise for Mrs Muir?"

"What I should do is turn her off without a reference," Claymore grumbled. "Send her back to her father in disgrace. What then?"

"But you won't because you know I will ruin your name in this town. You would not be able to charge another rent or collect on any outstanding debt. And as for your precious town council, I would make very sure you are never again re-elected president of anything higher than the town's dog catcher."

"You… I…" Claymore's face worked as he considered his options. But he knew when he was soundly beaten. "Oh, very well, two dollars, it is, then. And not a penny more!"

He pointed his quivering pipe stem at Carolyn. "You have my word on that!"

"Thank you, Claymore…" Daniel nodded before turning toward the door.

"Carolyn…" He smiled at her, knowing if he approached her at that moment he might not be able to keep from taking her in his arms.

He did not wish to give his cousin any further cause for complaint. Instead, he raised two fingers to the brim of his cap in his usual courteous salute before he left the office, closing the door quietly behind him.

Both occupants stared after him with varying degrees of bemusement. Carolyn recovered first, turning back to her work with a secret smile of contentment.

Her uncle puffed away on his clay pipe as he went back to his figuring. His air of unconcern hid a deep sense of betrayal that his own cousin had forced him to part with the princely sum of another two whole dollars a week to a mere woman!

"Bah and humbug..." he muttered to his ledgers, stabbing overly hard with his quill pen and splattering ink across his neat columns of figures. "Blast…"

※※※※※

December arrived before anyone in Schooner Bay was truly ready for it. The snow began to fall and the inclement weather took a turn for the worse.

As the days crept by toward Christmas, Carolyn often went up through the attic stairway and onto the widow's walk of Gull Cottage whenever the weather was clear enough for her to be able to see as far as the horizon.

She watched with trepidation as the sea ice began to form and creep into the harbour. Rumours had spread in the town of a terrible storm at sea and of at least one ship being sunk by the huge waves. She prayed it wasn't Daniel's, but there was still no word.

"Be well, my love…" she whispered to the wind. "Please come home to me, safe…"

Her correspondence with her parents had resumed and become reassuringly regular. Her mother was overjoyed that her wayward daughter had finally seen the good sense to find a decent man to marry. Against all the odds she approved of Daniel.

Carolyn's father was simply relieved the situation had been resolved and his small part in bringing it about. He too had nothing but good things to say about his soon-to-be, son-in-law.

Carolyn settled into a more comfortable state of truce with her irascible uncle. Claymore seemed to have mellowed somewhat now the truth of his underhandedness was out. He'd finally allowed Carolyn to make her own hours, even though he still insisted on firm punctuality. Once the snow arrived, he even paid for the regular hire of a sleigh to convey her to the office and home again.

Carolyn had tried to thank him for such an unlooked-for kindness but he had shrugged his unconcern. He'd picked up his pipe to wave it for emphasis.

"Time is money, Niece," he'd said. "Time is money. Never forget that lesson. I pay you to work for me. To do that you need to be here on time."

"Yes, Uncle…" Carolyn had replied meekly to placate him. "I'll try…"

"Oh, to be so young and foolish…" Claymore had sighed and shook his head at the folly of his niece. "When you reach my age…" He'd sighed again.

Carolyn had tried not to laugh at his morose expression, remembering her uncle was barely ten years older than her. In the last few weeks, the previous bitterness had gone from their relationship and Claymore seemed more than resigned to the wages he had been forced to pay her for her efforts. He sat working on his figures, sucking contentedly on his pipe as he watched his fortune increase with satisfying regularity.

He was very pleased he'd just foreclosed on a field of fine trees just outside of town when the previous owner's elderly widow could no longer keep up the payments. He intended to cut down the trees and sell them over the festive season for a handsome profit. Business was business and business was good.

As the cold afternoon of the twenty-third day of December wore on, Carolyn was bent over her figures, diligently calculating. She cast an anxious glance at the office window. The snow was beginning to drift and she wanted to ask her uncle if she could go home early.

But Claymore had gone out earlier to perform the last round of debt collecting before the festive season. He accepted no excuses and allowed no extensions to his strict timetable. It mattered not the season or the goodwill it was supposed to bring.

Suddenly the office door burst open with a sharp jangle of the doorbell. Carolyn looked up in startled surprise.

"Look, Niece!" Claymore declared in outrage as he hurried into the office. "The things that some people leave behind as if they were nothing more than garbage!"

"What is it, Uncle?" Carolyn turned on her stool to stare at him.

Claymore sighed impatiently as he held out a wriggling bundle of threadbare blankets in his hands. "Isn't it obvious? It's a baby!"

"A baby?" Carolyn hurried off her stool immediately. "Where on earth did you find him?" She accepted the wee mite being pushed into her arms. "His mother must be frantic. Oh, hello…" she crooned to her unexpected charge.

"I'd just finished my last collection on Beacon Street and there he was! Sitting up on the front seat of my carriage as if he was the King of England himself!" Claymore huffed, grateful for being relieved of his rather odorous burden. "I still have errands to run and monies to collect from the Morton family and the rest of Bay Road. I cannot possibly do that and look after a baby. What will people say?"

"Of course, not…" Carolyn soothed, shaking her head. "But I could take him home to Martha if you will consent to drive us. Gull Cottage is on the way out to the Morton place."

Her uncle scowled at the suggestion. "I have a far better idea. The Orphanage is just down the street and is the right and just place for him. They take in all foundlings and lost babies. It has done that young Malcolm no harm living there. Collect your cloak and I will drive you right now."

Carolyn frowned. "Oh, but Uncle, it's Christmas. And you know that place is cold in winter. You own the building and have not given any instructions for improvements in the last five years."

"Yes, well, repairs do cost money…" Claymore's face worked as he weighed up his options. "I have supplied them with more blankets and extra buckets of coal. What more do they want from me? I'm not made of money, you know."

The baby cried, waving his little arms. Claymore grimaced at the noise.

"What's the matter with him?" he demanded to know testily.

"His diaper is wet and he's hungry…" Carolyn soothed the child with gentle movements. "If I take him home, Martha can change him and then feed him. He no longer needs to concern you. You can go back to your debt collecting with a clear conscience."

"Oh, very well," Claymore gave in with ill-grace. "Since it's on my way…"

"Thank you, Uncle Claymore." Carolyn smiled.

"Yes, well, consider this as your early Christmas present," her uncle complained. "So, don't go asking for anything more." He waved a warning finger. "The gift cupboard is bare."

"I won't," Carolyn reassured him, handing the child back only so she could pull on her coat and bonnet.

"Daniel will return any day now. He promised to be here by Christmas. Having him safely home is all the gift I need."

"Love… bah humbug…" Claymore muttered, handing the baby to her again. "It's such a waste of time and money. And I detest everything about Christmas. It arrives every year and brings out the worst in people. All that hugging and merriment and gift giving…"

He waved another warning finger as he followed Carolyn and her small charge from the office, turning to lock the door and make sure it was secure. "Rest assured, it always comes back to haunt everyone else, but me, in the merry, merry month of January…"

※※※※※

Martha opened the front door of Gull Cottage to stare incredulously as Carolyn entered the house carrying her small burden. "Ohhh, Mrs Muir, who do we have here? Whose baby?" she cooed.

Claymore followed them inside. "Mine…" he replied involuntarily, not even sure why he's left the driving seat of his carriage.

Martha gasped as she looked him over sceptically. "Why, Claymore. Have you been keeping something from us?"

He looked shocked. "For heaven's sake, Martha, I found him on the front seat of my carriage! Someone just left him there. I have to suppose they recognised it was mine and knew I was a good-hearted fellow…"

He shook his head as he turned to leave. "I'll bid you all a good day. I still have work to do." Instead of leaving he lingered, still not really knowing why.

He reluctantly accepted the charge of the baby once more to allow his niece to remove her coat and bonnet. Carolyn handed them both to Martha before retrieving her small charge from him.

"What do we have for diapers, Martha?" she asked, trying not to smile at her uncle's strangely possessive outburst over an unwanted baby.

"Well, I'm sure I can find something…" Martha frowned before she hurried away.

"Shouldn't we be taking the little man into the warm?" Claymore fussed, pulling off his driving gloves and pushing them into the pocket of his overcoat.

He shook his head. Why do I care what happens to the imp? He's no concern of mine.

"Don't you have things you need to be doing, Uncle?" Carolyn asked, seeing his confusion as she carried her small charge into the warmth of the front parlour.

"Well, no, not right now…" Claymore frowned, still looking mystified. "I can stay for a moment or two longer. The Mortons know I'm coming."

Jonathan and Candy were sitting on the parlour floor wrapping presents. Scruffy was laying by the fire. They all jumped up as their mother and Claymore entered the room.

"See what we have here…" Carolyn said.

"Oh, Mother! A baby!" Candy declared, rather unnecessarily. "How wonderful."

"Is it ours?" Jonathan asked eagerly. "Can we keep him?"

"No, dear. He's just visiting," Carolyn replied, as she sat down on the couch with the baby in her lap.

The children crowded closer for a better view.

"What's his name?" Jonathan wanted to know.

"Slugger," Claymore offered like a proud parent. Did I just hear myself say that?

"Why?" Candy looked up at him.

"Because I like it and he's mine!" Claymore frowned at his own outburst.

Again, he tried to leave but his boots seemed rooted to the spot. The Muir's dog came to sniff at his ankles, but for the first time in their strained acquaintance, Scruffy did not offer to bite him. He didn't even growl. He sat at Claymore's feet, looking up at him with confusion in his eyes.

"Good dog…" Claymore mumbled as he bent down to gingerly pat the animal.

An unwanted feeling of contentment began to wash through him. On a whim he removed his overcoat and hat, tossing them down on the window seat behind him. He had decided to stay.

"But, Uncle Claymore, I thought, since you brought him here, that you've given him to us," Candy replied reasonably. "It is Christmas."

"Uncle Claymore never gives anything away." Jonathan shook his head. "Not for nothing. He even made me pay for that frog I caught in his stream one time."

"That was a lesson. Children need to learn that nothing in this life is free," Claymore countered quickly.

"Yes, well, the baby's not Uncle Claymore's to give away," Carolyn warned them. "He wanted to send him to the Orphanage. I wouldn't allow it. Not just before Christmas. Besides, the baby's family will be going frantic looking for him."

"Bah humbug…" Claymore grumbled, turning away to rub and warm his hands before the cheery fire. "I will inform the constable when I return to town. Someone must know whose baby he is. It will all be put right in a jiffy and we can get back to the business of making money."

"Did I look like that when I was small?" Jonathan frowned at the infant's pudgy face.

"No, you looked like you," his mother answered softly.

"He has such little fingernails…" Candy leaned closer to stare.

"And teeth too," Jonathan added, leaning closer still to peer into the baby's mouth.

"Don't breathe on him," Claymore ordered, turning back from the fire to hover protectively.

"Don't fuss, Uncle Claymore…" Carolyn rocked the baby slowly. "They won't harm him."

"I'm not fussing…" her uncle countered crossly, bending down to touch a fingertip to the baby's rosy cheek. "But I will say, he is a very good baby…"

Candy and Jonathan were totally entranced with the new addition. But practical matters quickly began to engage their attention.

"I wonder if Slugger will be allowed to sleep with us in our room?" Candy whispered to her brother.

"Shouldn't think so." Jonathan shrugged. "Babies cry. Jimmy Sutton said so. He's just got a new baby brother and he cries a lot." He rolled his eyes.

"Okay, maybe then we better not ask," Candy agreed with a nod.

"Might be neat, though…" her brother mused.

"It will soon be dinnertime, children," Carolyn told them. "Tidy up and then you can help Martha set the table."

"Very well, Mother…" Candy nodded.

"Mother, where's Slugger going to sleep tonight?" Jonathan ventured to ask, as they began to tidy up their wrapping supplies.

"I'm sure we'll find something for him up in the attic. The captain has all sorts of family heirlooms stored up there that we could borrow. I doubt he'll mind. But I think it's best if the baby sleeps in my room. I'm sure his parents will be found by tomorrow."

"But tomorrow's Christmas Eve," Candy pointed out as she got up from the floor, putting her armload of things down on the table before the couch. "What if they never find them? Can we keep him then?"

"I'm sure they will be found," her mother reassured her.

"Well, I'd better be hurrying along, I guess." Claymore waggled his fingers at the baby. "I still have those rents to collect before it gets dark."

But he remained standing beside Carolyn, playing fingers with the baby. The two Muir children crowded closer, each vying for their new sibling's attention. Scruffy sat at their feet wondering what all the fuss was about.

Martha hurried into the room carrying a handful of folded cloths and a warmed baby's bottle that used to belong to Jonathan. She stopped in the doorway to smile at the scene. The whole tableau had a decided look of Christmas.

"All that's needed now is for Captain Gregg to return home safely in time for Christmas Day." She glanced up to the ceiling. "Please, dear Lord, make it so for all our sakes…"

※※※※※