Chapter Twenty-Six
Cousin Claymore
The next morning, Claymore's bedside alarm clock jerked him rudely awake from a very satisfying dream. He groaned as he rolled over to slap his hand over its shrill call, knocking the clock to the floor.
"Just give me five more minutes…" he murmured, settling back into his pillows, trying to recapture the moment.
He'd been dreaming about counting gleaming piles of gold, silver and jewels. The same bags of loot he just knew his great-uncle had secretly buried somewhere in the gardens of Gull Cottage. The siblings to the bag of treasure that still resided in his safe because he could not bring himself to part with any of it. Especially not the exquisite diamond he'd been paid with for pretending to be the Captain to try and fool the annoying Cousin Harriet.
He sighed. The shrill of the alarm had jerked him from making his final tally of the pirate gold. It was no good, the dream had evaporated.
"And my great-uncle is the biggest pirate of all…" He pushed himself up in the bed, throwing back the covers. "By rights, that treasure and his house should still belong to me. After all, I am his one and only heir. The only one he will ever have. He should treat me better. Ask instead of demanding me to do this or that…"
He sighed with a deep sense of ill-usage. His general mood had soured since he'd been forced to sell the Spirit Island camp at a loss to the annoying Miss Peekskill. He hated to lose money at any time, but especially on a property deal.
He did take a small amount of pleasure in wondering how the detestable woman was getting on with the ghosts that were said to be haunting the place. He hoped they were keeping her awake at night and turning her hair white with their chain rattling and ghoulish screaming.
Ed Peevey had also told him that there'd been some more recent, crazy stories about the presence of a ghost cat out at the camp. It was rumoured the animal could be heard to howl in the night like a lost soul and its eyes glowed like red coals in the dark.
"Poppycock!" Claymore had doubted that juicy fact, as much as he would have liked to believe it.
In the last few months rumours about the island had spread far and were retold and embellished to the point they'd even stirred up some fresh academic interest from the university.
To Claymore's consternated surprise, a belligerent Paul Wilkie had telephoned him last month. The man demanded Claymore give his permission for Wilkie to investigate the camp's rumoured ghostly inhabitants as soon as the winter snows began to melt.
He'd said he was working on restoring his reputation in the world of parapsychology and he had uncovered proof of that. Claymore had been quick to babble that he no longer owned the camp and had swiftly ended the call.
"We all have our own ghostly crosses to bear without wasting our time looking for more of them," he muttered. "Me, most of all. Wilkie should come back to Gull Cottage and waste his time investigating my great-uncle. He's never left me alone to just be myself."
He'd perked up a little when he'd foreclosed on old man Hislop's hill of fine Christmas trees last month. The widow couldn't keep up with the high mortgage payments Claymore had demanded and he'd quickly moved in.
He was hoping to recoup his losses on the camp deal by trying to sell the trees for a handsome profit. It had made him feel marginally better, but business was slow on his tree lot. Another reason for his morose expression.
"Where's everybody's Christmas spirit gone to?" he grumbled. "I'm only asking prices that are fair." He scowled. "Bah humbug…"
But then Carolyn Muir had phoned, asking if he would consent to allow her children to cut down one tree for Christmas. He deeply resented the request but could see no way around it.
"One tree and one tree only…" He'd waved a warning finger at the receiver. "I'm not made of money, you know."
He was sure the irascible ghost of his great-uncle had heard of his recent foreclosure and had been behind the request. But the thought of the Captain appearing to reclaim the bag of treasure, and his diamond, if he'd refused had prompted Claymore to comply.
"Why is it always me who suffers?" He sighed as he got out of bed to prepare for the busy day ahead. "At least if there was only a ghost cat haunting me, I could easily scare it off with a big dog."
Even though today was Christmas Eve he needed to be up early because he still had business to conduct and rents to collect. He knew he could well afford to employ a full-time clerk in his office, but he detested anyone else knowing his business or the very healthy state of his bank balances.
"My business is my business," he grumbled before he showered and shaved. "Besides, I enjoy being alone at Christmas. I'm going to have a nice, cosy evening eating my left-over lobster dinner and adding up my bank accounts. That is my reward for a year of hard toil and graft. Time is money…"
He stopped and frowned as he considered the date. "Speaking of ghosts…"
Oddly enough, despite his complaints about never being left alone, he'd not seen any sign of his great-uncle in some weeks. The lack of his appearance worried Claymore even more than when he knew he was around and watching him. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood up, but nothing and nobody materialised.
From outside the bedroom window, the approaching sound of carollers could be heard further along the street. The merry sound of their singing grew as they walked closer to his office.
"Bah humbug. Celebrating Christmas is only for fools and spendthrifts…" Claymore grumbled, as he tossed aside his towel and sat down on the side of the bed to pull on his clothing and shoes. "Those singers are just like the Captain. Always turning up when they're least wanted."
He raised his voice and shook one fist at the door leading to his office. "Make yourselves useful! Go away and buy some of my trees!"
He sighed as he stood up to look around the room again. He still had the unwelcome sensation of being watched but nothing moved. He finished dressing in a hurry, just in case.
As he began to cook his hearty breakfast, he kept glancing over his shoulder as if he could not believe his luck. "All it took was for me to agree to those darned kids being allowed to cut down one of my Christmas trees?"
He frowned nervously around the room, double-checking he was still alone. "No, I'm not that lucky…"
He finished cooking and plated his food. Humming a little tune, he carried it to the small table in front of the couch and settled down to enjoy his meal.
"Maybe he's gone away somewhere on some other ghostly business…" he wondered, tucking his napkin into the collar of his shirt beneath his chin. "At least I get another day to eat my breakfast in peace…"
Daniel materialised on the other side of the table. "Oh, dear, Claymore. Are you really so desperate for company that you've actually missed having me around? I shall have to make a point of calling in on you more often."
"No!" Claymore dropped his half-raised forkful of food back onto the plate. "You… I… Go away!"
He grimaced at his meal. "You used to only interrupt my lunch and dinner. Now you're gotta try and give me dyspepsia at breakfast, as well? It's too much! Too much, I tell you!"
"That is too much…" Daniel frowned at the heaping dish of scrambled eggs, fried mushrooms and crisp rashers of bacon. "In my day all a man needed in the morning was a bowl of thick oatmeal and a glass of water." He raised one hand to point a finger at the plate.
"Oh, no, you don't!" Claymore leaned his body over the table to defend his meal. "Touch this and I won't do anything you tell me!"
"You don't know what I want of you yet," Daniel replied reasonably, turning away to draw forward a chair and sat down.
The voices of Christmas carollers carried into the room as they progressed past the office door on the street outside. 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen…'
"Just listen to that blasted noise!" Claymore snapped. "They've been at it for over two weeks now! From dawn to dusk they prattle on and on! They're making my head ache! You make my head ache!"
He put one hand to his brow. "I detest Christmas and everything about it. I have a hill of trees to sell and nobody's buying. If you really want to do something for me, go and scare those people away. Jump out and shout boo! That should move them along nicely and give me some peace."
"Oh, Claymore, you really are an Ebenezer Scrooge, aren't you?" Daniel shook his head with a laugh. "They only seek to bring you the greetings of the season."
"Well, I don't want their greetings or yours! I want to be left alone!" Claymore shooed one hand at his great-uncle. "Now, go away! Go away!"
"Not until I tell you what I have come for," Daniel eased back in his chair, crossing his legs at the ankle and folding his arms.
"Well, get on with it, then," Claymore grumped then sighed. "Oh, what's the use? My breakfast's already getting cold."
"First I need to tell you a story that concerns us all," Daniel replied evenly.
"It is a long one?" Claymore sighed. "I have work to do."
"It won't be if you don't keep interrupting me."
"Oh, very well…" Claymore pulled the napkin from his neck, tossing it over his plate. "Get to the point." He sat back and folded his arms belligerently. "Make it quick."
He knew he should inform his great-uncle about Paul Wilkie's unexpected call. But he didn't want to call any more ghostly wrath down upon himself. He resolved to tell him later. Much later…
Daniel regarded him through narrowed eyes. "First of all, I am extending an invitation from Mrs Muir for you to attend the family Christmas meal at Gull Cottage tomorrow. You will telephone her to accept her kind offer with gratitude. I told you, if you were good and kept your interfering nose out of my business you would eventually receive an invitation to come back to the house."
"You are?" Claymore's brows rose, then he scowled. "Why? What do the pair of you want from me this time? As if I didn't know. Is that Harriet woman back for the holidays? Do you want me to pretend to be you again?"
He shook his head vigorously. "Because I won't do it, I tell you! Not again, not ever! And you can't make me." He waved a denying finger. "I'd rather die than have you crawling all around inside me again, messing with my mind and making me look like a total fool. You made me drink too much of that sherry. I had a hangover for a week!"
He shuddered. "And I can still feel you inside me whenever I close my eyes…"
"Your funeral can easily be arranged," Daniel replied with a grim smile. "It would be my pleasure. And if you were not such a craven coward I would have no need to take possession of your sorry carcass in the first place! Believe me, it does nothing for me either. Your thoughts are extremely irrational and confusing. You think of nothing but money and how to get more."
"I… No, thank you," Claymore denied stiffly. "I'll pass on both the possession and the funeral. If it's all the same to you." He sniffed his discontent.
"Very well…" Daniel shook his head. "Then listen to me instead of babbling on. Nobody wants anything from you except your company. Mrs Muir wishes for you to attend as yourself. Her parents are visiting and she thought it was time for you to mend some fences and join in since you have no one else but me."
"What?" Claymore stared at his great-uncle in confusion. "You want me to pretend to be me this time, and not you, like last time and that other time… I don't get it. Her parents will smell a very big rat as soon as they see me. The last time they saw me I was you and not me. And as for that ghastly Harriet woman…"
"You don't have to get anything. You will simply arrive as Claymore Gregg, former owner of Gull Cottage and now a casual friend to their daughter. You will be civil, enjoy a good meal and make excellent conversation. You may take your leave as early as you like after the meal. Just do not let me down. Or it will be the worse for you."
"Yes, yes…" Claymore waved an irritated hand. "You will move in here and haunt me until the end of time and all that. You've told me before. Very well, give me one good reason why I should help you out. What's in it for me?"
"My undying gratitude?" Daniel questioned in a resigned tone.
"Not good enough," Claymore replied, his eyes narrowing with avarice. "I want more. A lot more and you know what, more. You said I think of nothing but money. Well, guess what I'm thinking about right now!"
"Of course, you are." Daniel shook his head. "Your miserly, larcenous heart is incapable of loving anything else but gold. So be it. What about another bag of that treasure you value so highly?"
"I…" Claymore's mouth fell open into a perfect oh of astonishment. Then he snapped the fingers of both hands in mid-air with triumph. "At last! I knew it! I just knew it!"
He chuckled gleefully, doing a little dance with his feet beneath the table. "I knew you had more treasure. That night you stopped me from digging up the garden and showed me my own grave. I was close, wasn't I? I could almost smell it."
He tapped the side of his nose gleefully. "I have a nose for gold, you know. The best in the business and don't you forget it."
"Your scurvy nose will lead you into deep trouble soon enough if you do not do as you are told." Daniel frowned at him.
"No treasure, no deal." Claymore puffed out his chest. "I have my reputation to uphold."
"What reputation? If it's as a rodent scoundrel without a single redeeming feature, then yes, you do have such a one."
"Flattery will get you nowhere," Claymore sneered. "Very well…" He sighed. "Who do I have to pretend to be this time to get my own treasure back?"
"No one except yourself, as I said. But you do need to be aware of one small, but very important change, in the Gregg family dynamic."
"I don't like the sound of this," Claymore complained. "You're setting me up for something. I can feel it in my bones. You always want your pound of flesh and you don't care how you get it. Well, my pale, watery Gregg blood is not for sale. Not at any price!"
"I don't want your flesh or your blood." Daniel looked pained, laying a hand over his heart. "Now would I do something like that to my only living relative?"
"Yes you would and you know it!" Claymore sat up in his chair. "You have always delighted in making me look small and nasty. You're doing it now."
He pretended to pull his eyeshade onto his head. "This is a business arrangement between us. Pure and simple. Let's keep it that way."
"You did that all by yourself." Daniel shrugged. "Your much-vaulted reputation proceeds you at every turn."
"Well, maybe I've turned over a new leaf," Claymore declared, frowning toward the sound of the passing carollers. "Call it my Christmas resolution. There comes a point in a man's life when he's finally had enough of being kicked around when he's down. I am a man and I have feelings."
He spread his arms wide. "Go ahead and do your worst. Get it over with so I may finally be allowed to eat my cold food. Threaten me with everything you can drag out of your bag of ghostly tricks. I'm immune to the pain."
"Threaten you, my dear boy?" Daniel replied softly, smiling thinly. "Why, nothing could be further from my mind. I'm sure we could get along very well. Once you finally decide to stop fainting on me every time I ask you for a small amount of your time. Ours could be a very profitable relationship… for you."
He stood up as he spoke, walking slowly around the table. Claymore scrambled back out of his seat, dodging to the other side to avoid him.
"Treasure…" he bleated. "You wanted me to go out to your house in exchange for some more of that treasure. Don't come any closer! What do I have to do?"
Daniel followed him slowly. "Tomorrow, you will present yourself at the front door of Gull Cottage precisely on the first bell of the afternoon watch and not a second later."
"First bell, afternoon watch. Right, got it, got it…" Claymore babbled, scurrying away. "Um, what time exactly is that?"
"Noon of the clock, you fool." Daniel stabbed a finger at him. "It will allow you time to settle in and get comfortable in your new role. You will be courteous, civil and on your very best behaviour to everyone. Especially with Mrs Muir's parents. In essence, anything but your spineless self. You will play the new familial role assigned to you without a single deviation. I will explain everything."
"Are you really sure you really want me to do this?" Claymore trembled. "You know I'm not very good in company. Especially the Williams' company. They make me so nervous. They didn't like me the last time. Mrs Williams was very sweet, but I could just see she saw right through me. And as for Mr Williams, well…" He slapped a dismayed hand to his cheek.
"Stop blathering, you fool!" Daniel commanded shortly. "Now, I have ordered a number of Christmas gifts that will be delivered to you this afternoon. Each one is appropriate for its recipient. You will bring them all with you tomorrow."
"And I'm guessing I've paid for all these gifts out of my own pocket, just like the last time," Claymore huffed. "I'm not made of money, you know."
"You would be if you could bring yourself to part with even a small amount of my treasure. Everything you see as yours could still be mine." Daniel raised a menacing hand. "If you push my patience too far."
Claymore threw his hands up as he kept circling the table. "Why can't I just stay here? I already have a fine lobster dinner for one. Then I won't bother anyone and you won't try to kill me or take my treasure away because I screwed up."
He swallowed mightily as if his throat was suddenly full of sharp razors. "I think I'll… I'll pass on your generous offer. If it's all the same to you…"
"Oh, no, you do not escape me that easily." Daniel shook his head, following his prey with ease. "Your presence has been requested and you will do as you are commanded. And there is still that small change in our Gregg family dynamic I mentioned. The one you will remember at all times on the pain of death."
"W… w… what is it?" Claymore did his best to keep the table between them. "W… w… who is it?"
Daniel shook his head. "A mere technicality. From now on, whenever you are in the company of Mrs Muir's parents, or anyone in her family, you will style yourself at all times as my cousin and not my great-nephew. Is that clear?"
"W… w… what?" Claymore stopped moving, staring at his great-uncle in total bewilderment. "Why? I am your great-nephew, everyone knows that. You're far too old to be my cousin, however many times removed."
"Because I'm asking. And I am going to give you a bag of treasure for your time and participation which will greatly please your larcenous heart."
"Why?" Claymore asked again, blinking at him in confusion. "You're up to something and I don't like it. I always end up getting hurt or passing out."
He placed a hand on his shoulder. "I can still feel the last time you grabbed me. It hurt for weeks."
He eased the joint, then stopped to frown, remembering his great-uncle had been visible that night in the Gull Cottage garden when he'd seized him by the shoulder. "How did you do that? Grab me like that? You touched me and I could see you when you did it."
Daniel's tight smile did not reach his eyes. "As I told you that night, I have been given a whole new set of powers that you would do better not to test. They have accorded me a certain number of new, unghost-like freedoms."
"What… what sort of freedoms?" Claymore squeaked, turning ashen-faced.
"It's really very simple." Daniel walked up beside him, watching him closely. "I can now become solid flesh and blood whenever I chose to apply my mind to it. As you're about to see…"
He lifted one hand, holding it just above Claymore's cringing right shoulder. "Now I am able to touch and be touched at will. Think of all the new powers it has given me."
He smiled. "Just like this one…"
His hand descended to firmly grip Claymore's shrinking flesh once more. His cringing great-nephew turned unwilling cousin jumped as if he'd just been shot in the rear.
"Ouch! Stop it! That hurts… Oh, no, I think I'm going to be sick…" he wailed as his frightened face bleached to white and his eyes rolled back in his head. Instead of throwing up, he fainted dead away, falling into a heap at Daniel's feet.
"Every time I get anywhere near him…" Daniel raised his eyes toward the ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief. "The man is a total failure at living. How could anyone ever believe that such a weak-kneed piece of clay could possibly be related to me?"
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"Claymore fainted…?" Carolyn frowned when her husband relayed the encounter. "Oh, no, that really doesn't sound good. Maybe we'd be better off making his excuses for tomorrow. We can't risk him getting things wrong and ruining everything."
"Sadly, such an option would be too risky. Your parents are expecting to see him," her husband replied, shaking his head as he glanced at their bedroom wall. "I was forced to wait for him to wake up again, that is why I'm late back. I made very sure he was on the same page as us. He knows what I will do to him if he errs so much as one point from the course I have set for him. He will be rewarded handsomely enough for his pains."
"If you really think he can pull it off…" Carolyn continued worriedly.
She put a hand to her forehead. The dull, nagging pain of her headache had returned. She felt on edge and slightly sick.
"He will do so, or he will pay the consequences," Daniel replied, watching her with concern.
"If you say so…" Carolyn sighed roughly. "He will need to be very careful about what he does and say. And you too. My father was a little too fascinated with all your swashbuckling stories last night. He will be expecting more of the same when you next meet him."
"Yes…" Daniel glanced at the closed bedroom door. "I agree we must be very careful. I sense your parents are already up and around. Your father has gone downstairs with the children. I coached them this morning on what needs to be said if they're questioned. They're very excited to be playing their parts and getting their revenge on the deplorable Cousin Harriet."
His brows drew together. "But your mother will be seeking you out soon enough. She still has many questions she wants answers to. Your pallor will draw her attention. You had best pinch your cheeks to bring up your colour."
"I'm not feeling very colourful right now…" Carolyn complained as she did as she was bid.
The unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach remained. She hoped it would soon pass.
Her husband shook his head. "There is nothing for it. I shall retreat to the wheelhouse and await the moment of my anticipated arrival. We cannot afford to be seen together. There would be too many uncomfortable questions."
"Sadly, yes…" Carolyn nodded. "I will miss you."
"I will miss you too. Despite the circumstances, I am happy we can now spend our first Christmas together. Applegate and his blasted cat would have made very poor substitutes."
Daniel's smile turned intimate. "But, for now, it would be especially awkward if I were to be found alone with you in your bedroom." His intense look deepened. "Think of the scandal. What would your mother say?"
"It's not funny. Are you sure we can do any of this?" Carolyn put a hand on his sleeve, pushing aside her own health concerns. "Martha and the children have so much they need to remember. We cannot allow a single thing to go wrong. I know what I have to say and do, but I don't think I've ever been more worried in my life…"
She looked away to fuss with the stack of manuscript pages on the desk, not allowing him to see the tears in her eyes. "I cannot lose you, not now…"
"Chin up, my dear…" Daniel put two fingers beneath her jaw, lifting her frowning gaze back to his. "Everything will be all right, you'll see. Martha and the children know what's at stake. As they did when the blasted Harriet was in the house. They will play their parts to perfection and we shall sail through with flying colours. And Claymore will do what is required of him or he will suffer the consequences."
He gently wiped the tears from her eyes with the ball of his thumb. "Your parents will suspect nothing. When I am done with them, they will be more than willing to accept me as a potential son-in-law instead of the bone-headed Mitford."
"Do you think such a thing is even possible?" Carolyn looked up at him, not daring to hope. "I mean, so much could still go so wrong…"
"Look at how far we have already come. I have to believe that anything is possible if we wish for it hard enough…" Daniel reassured her before he sighed with regret. "It's only for one more day, then I will take my leave of you until your parents go home again, without you. I should go now before we are discovered…"
As he spoke, he bent forward to cover his lips with his. Carolyn pressed the flat of her hand against his chest, over the steady beat of his heart, raising the other to the back of his neck to draw him closer to her. The cool morning sunlight painted the outline of their closeness with fingers of pale gold.
Daniel sighed as he finally drew back fractionally. "I must go, my dear. I really must. I need to see a ghost about a man…"
"No… please, don't go just yet…" Carolyn tried to pull him back to her as he began to slowly dissolve beneath her hands and mouth. In the next moment, she was alone, her eyes still closed as she kissed the empty air.
"Carolyn…?" Her mother's bewildered voice questioned from the open doorway as she entered the room. "I thought I heard voices, but you're all alone in here. What are you doing? And why are you standing there like that?"
"I'm not doing anything…" Carolyn felt her pale cheeks warm as she quickly dropped both her hands and her chin. "I was… just practising a scene for my latest article. It helps me with formulating my writing if I act it out."
"I see…" Emily advanced into the room, looking all around. "Well, your writing may become a bone of contention in the near future. When Harriet showed Owen your scandalous article about that stowaway and the shipload of sailors, he was not at all pleased. He was quick to reassure me that such odd behaviour would not be repeated after you're married."
Beyond the house, thunder began to rumble and lightning flashed. Daniel reappeared beside Carolyn. His expression was mutinous as he clenched his hands at his sides.
"That blasted Mitford presumes far too much, Madam!" he snapped. "His will be a very short, unlamented life if he interferes ever again!"
"Such very odd weather you have out here…" Emily frowned at the sounds of the storm. "Anyway, I see little has changed with you. Harriet was very concerned about your whole situation here. If that's a scene from your next article you were acting out, then I will spare my blushes by not reading it, if you don't mind."
"So, now Owen thinks he's also my keeper along with Harriet. Maybe they should get married…" Carolyn murmured as she moved around her desk. "And no, of course, I don't mind," she replied smoothly. "But as I have already told you a number of times. I will never marry Owen because I do not love him and I never did. I won't be marrying him after Christmas or at any point in the future. If you love me, you will not bring up the subject ever again."
"Oh, but…" Her mother looked confused. "I thought you two had made an understanding. He's besotted with you. He always was, even after you ran away to marry Bobby Muir. Owen always said he forgave you. He also forgave you when you ran away from him again to come and live in this old, spooky house." She looked around the room dismissively.
"We never have had any kind of understanding. And if Owen's besotted with anyone, it's himself," Carolyn replied firmly, as she took her mother's arm. "You choose not to see his less attractive qualities. At times, he's been more like a pirate captain who loves money more than anything."
She put up a denying hand when her mother looked as if she was going to argue the point. "Please, let's not talk about Owen now. We really should go down for breakfast. I don't know about you, but I'm famished," she lied briskly, trying to ignore the upset feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Behind her back, she waved Daniel away. He dematerialised reluctantly, taking the storm with him. Silence and the pale sunlight returned to the room.
"Why the rush to go down?" Emily frowned at her, as her daughter escorted her into the hallway. "I thought we might sit and talk. It's been a long time since we had a good heart-to-heart. I want to know more about this mysterious Captain of yours. He was rather wonderful last night."
She looked back into the shadows in the sunlit room. "You know, if I didn't know you better, I could almost swear you had a man in here…"
She shook her head as she stared at the closed windows behind the telescope. "Harriet said the same thing. She was so sure she'd often hear a man's voice, but whenever she came into the room, you were here, alone. It's all very puzzling. I trust you haven't been entertaining your handsome Captain Gregg in there behind our backs. That would not be at all seemly or acceptable for you."
"Oh, Mother, of course not. We wouldn't dream of it. The Captain has always been the most perfect gentleman. You'll see tomorrow…" Carolyn sighed, neatly avoiding the whole minefield of awkward questions as she drew her mother with her toward the head of the stairs.
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