A note to all my lovely readers:
If you wish to read my recent novel retelling the original story of The Ghost and Mrs Muir then please go to Amazon (US) and look under Books for Lucie and the Captain by Katherine Lange.
Thank you for your attention, please enjoy!
Chapter Thirty-Five
The Captain Returns Again
"The blasted woman wants me to behave and be sensible?" Daniel exclaimed as he materialised behind the living room couch with his arms folded belligerently. "This faker is the one who needs to learn discipline! Pushing her way into our lives where she's not wanted. She has no boundaries!"
He glared at Madame Tibaldi before turning to his wife. "I will not tolerate having this fraudulent ghost-caller under our roof for one minute longer! She will only upset you with her prattling inanities and selfish demands."
He stabbed an accusing finger at the medium. "She will leave immediately or I will not behave and or be responsible for my actions!"
Beyond the house, thunder began to roll and lightning flashed. The windows rattled and the walls creaked. Heavy rain suddenly sluiced down out of a clear blue sky.
"Oh, my…" Madame Tibaldi lifted a hand to her cheek. "Now where did that spring from?"
The front door flew open as the children rushed in followed by a barking Scruffy. They ran into the living room, their eyes wide with astonishment.
"Wow! Someone's really mad!" Candy declared breathlessly, shaking raindrops from her clothing.
"What's happened?" Jonathan demanded, staring at his stepfather.
"Nothing yet, lad," Daniel replied hardly. "But it's about to if this woman does not leave right now!"
"It's all right. It's just one of our local storms. There's nothing to worry about," Carolyn said for their guest's benefit.
She turned to the children. "Now, go on up to your room and get changed out of your wet things. Take your game up with you."
"Okay, Mom…" Jonathan picked up the box of checkers and the board.
"See ya later, Madame Tibaldi," Candy added.
They trailed away up the staircase, trying to peer back through the spindles to see what was happening in the living room.
Madame Tibaldi frowned, pointing toward the windows. "You know, I can almost sense a force somewhere out there behind that storm. Maybe the Captain is getting closer, knowing I'm here to help him."
"Oh, it happens a lot around here. We have our own funny little weather patterns." Carolyn quickly finished her coffee, putting aside her cup on the tray. "Now, I really am so sorry you've had a wasted journey, Madame Tibaldi. But that Captain Daniel Gregg in the painting died over a hundred years ago. He's not haunting this house or anywhere else that I'm aware of."
She stood up. "Now I really do think it's time for you to leave. Thank you for coming here and bringing me your book. I shall read it with interest."
"The front door is already open," Daniel encouraged, walking around the end of the couch to stand beside his wife. "Allow me to assist you."
"I think I can handle it…" Carolyn shook her head.
"Of course, you can." Mrs Tibaldi nodded quickly. "But the spirits never lie, my dear. They told me all about you and the Captain. I can feel the pain of your loss."
She turned to stare at the portrait. "You know, I could almost swear he's back with us right now. There are suddenly such emanations of a powerful presence in this room. In fact, there may be more than one. The vibrations are incredible!"
She jumped up, putting aside her empty coffee cup with a clatter. "Maybe it's my magnetic personality which drew the Captain all the way back to this house. I know I can bring him back to you, fully and all will be well again."
"Magnetic personality, right…" Martha commented drily as she gathered the empty cups onto the tray. "I'll be in the kitchen if anyone needs me. I've already seen this circus." She left the room, shaking her head.
Carolyn frowned at her guest. "I don't know what you think these spirits of yours told you. But the Captain is not in this room," she lied with a straight face.
"But I can feel him…" Madame Tibaldi walked over to the painting and gazed up at it. "Are you here, Captain? Show yourself."
She waved her hands back and forth in front of her face. "Speak to me…" she intoned slowly.
"Prying purveyor of poppycock and all things fake!" Daniel railed at her, folding his arms. "You can't tell a shade from your own shadow. I proved that last time."
"Well, you're not helping the situation with your storm," Carolyn warned in a tense whisper. "Stop it!"
"I have no intention of helping. I will not tolerate having this mealy-mouthed fraud on these premises one second longer! You will remove her or I must."
He unfolded his arms, reaching his hands toward the medium. She continued to be unaware as she stared rapturously up at the painting.
"I've been doing my best for the last half an hour to show her to the door," Carolyn complained softly. "But she doesn't know how to take the hint. She's quite sure you're here somewhere and she's determined to find you. If you do anything to her, she'll know she's right. Please go away and maybe then she'll settle down and leave us in peace."
Daniel groaned as he lowered his hands. "This is intolerable! We have a manuscript to finish and you need to take your morning nap."
"I'm fine," Carolyn whispered fiercely. "I don't need to go upstairs and lie down just because you say so."
"I am only trying to help you, Madam." Daniel looked offended. "I won't have you overset in your delicate condition by such a piffling fraud."
Outside the storm intensified, the rain lashing down with lightning and thunder electrifying the atmosphere.
"Very well…" Carolyn threw up her hands in defeat. "Have it your way. I just think it's incredibly sweet of her to care so much about you."
"Oh, my…" Madame Tibaldi walked across to the front windows and looked outside. "That really is quite some storm out there. If it doesn't stop soon I'll be forced to stay the night here instead of the room I've booked at the Inn in town."
She turned back to Carolyn. "You know it has been known for some spirits to conjure up such weather events when they're angry or offended."
She chuckled. "Or throwing a tantrum like a spoiled child who's been denied a treat. I get them from time to time."
The storm immediately abated. The sun returned and the sudden silence was almost deafening.
"There now, that's much better," Madam Tibaldi remarked with satisfaction. "I knew I was right. There is a spirit in here and he's not happy. They just need to be told. Now, you must allow me to hold my séance, my dear. It's for all of you, but especially for the Captain. I feel he's been so terribly lonely."
She smiled sweetly. "All at sea, you might say."
"I am not acting like a spoiled child who had been denied a treat," Daniel complained bitterly. "My storms are simply an expression of my frustration. And what's this about her wanting to hold another séance?"
"I know you're there…" Madame Tibaldi said suddenly, looking off to the side by the curtained entrance to the alcove. "You can come out now. Oh, you're shy and want me to come in there?"
She smiled and nodded, cocking her head like a bird as she listened to a voice only she appeared to be able to hear. Daniel and Carolyn looked at each other.
"Who is she talking to?" Carolyn whispered.
"I have no idea." Her husband shrugged. "There's no one there. I would know if there was a spirit present. Lucius is up in the wheelhouse drinking my Madeira and smoking my cigars, but he knows better than to venture down here without my permission."
"Maybe it's all in her mind, after all," Carolyn worried, watching their visitor suddenly disappear behind the alcove curtain.
She leaned closer to her husband. "Madame Tibaldi wants to hold another séance to bring you back to us. She's so set on it and is really convinced you're waiting for her to ask you to return."
"Then she has no more idea of what she's doing than last time," Daniel replied. "She is a complete fraud. You really should send her on her way, Madam, before she causes us more havoc."
"You allowed Wilkie to see you in your human form," Carolyn whispered. "Could you not do the same now? It would put paid to the need for another séance."
"Wilkie was out to prove my existence without ever seeing me. We changed his mind." Daniel shook his head. "This deluded woman has already seen me in spirit. I doubt she will believe us even if we showed her the truth about my transformation and we cannot count on her reticence if we did."
He stared after the medium. "It would be too risky to expose either of us to the closer scrutiny of yet more nosy parkers. It would soon become intolerable for any of us to live here."
"Then, it seems we have a stalemate." Carolyn shook her head. "She won't leave unless I agree to hold another séance and you won't allow it."
"We are in a pickle," Daniel agreed. "Short of physically throwing her out I cannot see what is to be done."
"Which we can't do. She's old and frail." Carolyn threw up her hands. "And very sweet. Surely there's no real harm in allowing her to hold the séance. Allow her to bring you back. Please, do it for me?" she implored softly. "Then she will go away happy and we will have seen the last of her."
"For you…" Daniel sighed brusquely. "You drive a hard bargain. But, for you, I would do anything…"
"Thank you. It seems the only way we're going to get rid of her is by making her happy. The woman is quite determined she's the only one who could bring you back to me. Her heart's in the right place if not her senses."
Her husband grimaced. "The blasted faker is conceited enough to think she succeeded in exorcising me from this house in the first place. Her powers are not that great. But I will agree to go along with the charade and make a show for her. Much as it pains me to say so."
"Thank you," Carolyn breathed, watching as the medium reappeared from behind the curtain, still talking to herself.
"That was a sign," Madame Tibaldi exclaimed excitedly. "The spirits say that right now is the most auspicious time to communicate with the Captain. They say he's very near. In fact, they've indicated he's even in the house somewhere. I told you he must have come back to me."
She sat down next to Carolyn again, right in front of Daniel. "Oh please, dear lady. Allow me to do this one last favour for you. I promise never to breathe a single word of what may happen here to a soul, living or dead. It would mean so much to me to settle our little debt."
She took Carolyn's hand between hers, patting it softly. "Then I may happily go on to my next life with my conscience clear, knowing I have made right a terrible wrong."
"Well…" Carolyn looked helplessly at her husband. "I don't understand. Are you seriously ill, Madame Tibaldi?"
"Oh, no, no, no, dear…" The medium laughed indulgently. "Just a little gout now and then and a touch or two of the arthritis in my knees when it rains. Reminders of my mortality. But I do believe in preparing for the eventual eventuality."
She wagged a warning finger. "One never knows when one's end may come. Not even myself, with all my spiritual contacts, can see my own demise."
"Yes, dying unexpectedly does have its disadvantages," Carolyn murmured thoughtfully, glancing at her husband meaningfully. "So many things can be left undone."
"Therefore we must seize the day!" Madame Tibaldi declared expansively, throwing her arms wide. "Now we must prepare to bring your Captain back to you. I can feel his impatience. He has waited long enough. I've always said, there's no time like the present."
"I give up…" Daniel declared with a resigned sigh. "Let the woman do her worst. At least then she will be satisfied and we will be well rid of her and her meddling ways. Then we may have some peace."
"Thank you." Carolyn sighed, hoping all would go well. "Tell me what you need, Olivia."
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Daniel watched with resignation as Carolyn and Martha hurried about assembling the required tools for the séance. Madame Tibaldi had removed her hat and was busy arranging items she'd pulled from her bag. The folding circular table had been moved from the alcove into the centre of the living room once more.
Candy and Jonathan were sitting on the staircase, watching through the spindles. They were careful to be very quiet for fear of being sent back up to their room and missing out on the fun.
The curtains at the living room windows had been drawn tight, blocking out much of the sunshine and candles had been lit. They were positioned on either side of the exotic-looking copper urn that had been used for the previous séance. Carolyn had carried it down from the wheelhouse, much to her husband's annoyance.
Carolyn leaned close to him as she passed. "Lucius said he had to leave. After he'd consumed all your Madeira he got bored waiting for your return."
"I know how he feels," her husband complained, glaring at the medium.
Madame Tibaldi looked toward Martha meaningfully. "The spirits have told me that they would love for you to join us this time. They do like numbers at the table."
"No, thanks," Martha replied quickly. "Like I said last time, there's no one I want to see that I haven't seen recently. I'll be in the kitchen, taking care of the half-time refreshments."
As she left the room the front doorbell rang. "I'll get it," she called back. "It's getting more like Grand Central Station around here every day."
She opened the door to find Claymore on the porch with his arms full of boxes of Madeira and cigars. She stood back to allow him inside.
"These are heavy," Claymore grumbled as he put the boxes down on the chair in the foyer. "I had to carry them all the way from my car. I'm owed a fee and extra for delivery. And I want greenbacks this time, too."
"You'll get your money," Martha assured him, looking back over her shoulder into the living room. "But right now, you'd better leave before you're spotted and roped into making up the numbers."
"Why? Who's here?" Claymore demanded to know, looking toward the living room. His face paled. "That awful Harriet Williams isn't back, is she? That woman's a menace and she hates me!"
"Worse…" Martha shrugged. "It's your funeral, if you want to wait for the Captain to pay you. He's kind of busy right now dealing with other people that are annoying him even more."
"A delivery man is always worthy of his hire," Claymore muttered, edging closer to the open door to peer in. "Old Spookface owes me. Is he in there?"
He frowned. "Why are all the curtains pulled on such a lovely morning? Is somebody sick?"
"Why, Mr Gregg…" Madame Tibaldi called, quickly spotting his furtive movements. "I've been expecting you. The spirits told me you'd be visiting us today. Come on in and take a seat. We're about to begin."
"Why didn't you tell me it was her?" Claymore hissed at Martha, as he dragged off his hat, twisting it nervously. "Why is she back? She returned my fee for the last time, you know.
"He stabbed an accusing finger at his great-uncle. "Well, she didn't earn it! He's still here! And he's worse than he ever was!"
He began to back up toward the front door, waving his hands at the invitation. "Oh, no, no. I really shouldn't stay. I have so many better things to be doing, places to be…"
"I did try to warn you…" Martha shrugged, quickly abandoning him to his fate.
She looked up the staircase. "Okay, kids, come on down. You'd better keep out of the way so you can come and help me in the kitchen."
"Awwww, do we have to?" Jonathan got to his feet reluctantly.
"Yeah, we'll miss all the fun." Candy sighed as she followed her brother into the kitchen. "We wanted to see what happens."
"Now, now, I won't hear of your leaving…" Madame Tibaldi hurried from the living room to seize Claymore's arm before he could reach the front door. "Your awful greed was the catalyst for the Captain's unwanted removal from this house. Now you will play your part in his triumphant return."
"I don't understand…" Claymore bleated, trying to wriggle free. "And please be careful of my sleeve, you're wrinkling the fabric."
"Nonsense! Now come along." The medium dragged him into the living room.
Carolyn was already seated at the table. She shook her head, frowning a warning.
"Oh I, but… He, but…" Claymore looked helplessly at a very annoyed looking Daniel who was standing in front of the alcove curtains with his arms folded.
"Play along," he commanded, laying a warning finger across his lips. "It's the only way we will finally be rid of the blasted charlatan."
"Oh, very well…" Claymore turned to the medium. "What… what is it that you want me to do, exactly?"
Madam Tibaldi pushed him into a chair at the table. "Just sit down here and be quiet. I'm going to be doing all the talking this time."
She sat down in the chair beneath the portrait. "Now, just like last time. We're going to lay our hands on the table with our fingertips touching each other's."
Carolyn and Claymore did as they were bid, spreading their fingers until they formed a circle with Madam Tibaldi's. An expectant hush fell over the room.
The medium nodded with satisfaction. "We must view every circle as a means to contact the spirits. We need to concentrate to bring the Captain closer. I am sure he is very near. I can feel his vibrations going right through me."
She shivered deliciously. "It's almost as if he's already in the room with us."
She paused significantly, then asked, "If there are any spirits within the sound of my voice who wish to speak to us, send us a sign. If you are a messenger then speak to me. I know you're there, let us know what you want…"
In the distance, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, briefly painting sharp pictures across the ceiling. The table's three occupants all jumped.
"I don't like this…" Claymore trembled. "What's happening? Why are we doing this?"
"You don't have to like it, you bumbling ninnyhammer, you just have to do your part!" Daniel declared grimly. "Think of it as a performance."
"I only came here to bring the Madeira and the cigars just like you ordered," Claymore defended himself.
"Madeira? Cigars?" Madame Tibaldi was momentarily distracted from her incantations. "I didn't know you smoked, Mrs Muir?"
"Well, no, I don't…" Carolyn frowned at Claymore's gaff. "Um, they… they're a gift for my father."
"Yes, that's right…" Claymore coughed. "I was just delivering them." He frowned at Daniel. "For a fee."
"You'll get your blasted fee! Now, concentrate and get on with it! Bring me back and then the woman can leave us in peace!"
"Yes, Sir…" his harassed great-nephew mumbled as he saluted weakly.
"Who are you talking to?" Madam Tibaldi stared at him. "The spirits seem to be roaming well today. I can feel they're all around us. I sense there is more than one messenger in the room with us. How marvellous."
She raised her gaze to the ceiling. "We are ready to receive the spirit of Captain Daniel Gregg. He is free to return to us. To this house. To those who love him…"
"Are you sure about any of this?" Claymore hissed to Carolyn. "I mean, you know, ah, what about you and him…? What if something goes wrong?"
He blinked. "I'll get the blame. I always do. I don't think that would be good at all. Not for me."
"Ssshhhh!" Madame Tibaldi admonished him sharply. "I said no talking. Now I will now fall into a deep trance and the spirits will bring the good Captain back to those who love him the most…"
She closed her eyes and began rocking backwards and forwards, moaning and chanting. "Phylogenies, Jedediah, Ezekiel, Hezekiah and Abraham… hmmmm… Erasmus, Sophocles, Demosthenes and Luke… hmmmm… hmmmm… hmmmm… Diogenes, Thax and Hypogynies… hmmmm… hmmmm… hmmmm…" she murmured, still swaying in her chair.
She paused, frowning. "I don't think I've forgotten anyone..." She shrugged. "Too late now. Captain Gregg, can you hear me? Do you hear me…?"
Behind her Daniel walked to his portrait and began to move it from side to side, making it creak. Carolyn and Claymore turned to look at it.
"If you can hear me, give us a sign. Any sign that you are there…" Madame Tibaldi continued to chant with her eyes still tightly shut, not sensing what was happening behind her. "Send us a message…"
In the distance a rising wind began to wail, strengthening the storm. Within it, a man's voice could be heard moaning. Carolyn looked at her husband helplessly.
"Well, she didn't see or hear my first sign…" Daniel shrugged with frustration.
"Give us a sign, any sign…" Madame Tibaldi continued to demand. "Are you there, Captain Gregg? Speak to me!"
"I'll give you a blasted sign…" Daniel walked to the urn and lifted it into the air, waving it in circles.
A thin stream of smoke started to curl from the vessel, swirling higher. Claymore began to whimper, cringing back in his chair.
Madame Tibaldi's voice rose higher. "Captain Gregg, if you can hear my voice, answer me with yours. I want to hear you…"
"This is ridiculous!" Daniel snapped. "She's not paying any attention to my signs! She's got her eyes closed!" He thumped the vessel back down onto the table.
Madame Tibaldi suddenly sat up expectantly, her eyes still shut. "Can you hear me, Captain? I can feel you getting nearer and nearer…"
"At last…" Daniel raised his eyes heavenwards. He dematerialised abruptly.
"I… hear… you…" an indistinct masculine voice suddenly replied from the urn, seeming to come from a long way away and down a deep, echoing tunnel.
The urn lifted from the table and began to float in mid-air as the smoke thickened. Carolyn and Claymore both stared at it, then at each other.
Madame Tibaldi's eyes snapped open. She looked startled by her success but recovered quickly.
"But that not… that's not him!" Claymore whispered urgently to Carolyn. "Is it?"
"I don't know…" she replied worriedly. "He sounds so weak and far away."
"I told you this was not a good idea!" Claymore wailed. "He will take it out on me if this fails and he gets all turned around. He always does."
"Ohhhh, this is just like last time…" Madame Tibaldi breathed rapturously, clasping her hands together and forgetting all about the need for the circle of their fingers to be touching. "I have had my greatest success in this house!"
Claymore put his hand up to the side of his mouth. "What's going on?" he whispered fearfully. "Shouldn't we just admit he's already here?"
"We can't stop now," Carolyn replied in a furious tone.
"Where… am… I…?" the indistinct male voice echoed from the levitating urn, smoke filling the air all around it.
"Heavens to hallucinations!" Madame Tibaldi exclaimed, jumping up. "I've done it! I've actually done it! I've brought the Captain back to you, Mrs Muir! Oh, I'm so happy!"
She cleared her throat, sitting down again to lean toward the levitating urn. "Captain, I want you to come all the way back to us. Keep moving forward. I want you to return to those who love you and remember you…"
She stopped to scowl across the table at Claymore. "I should never have exorcised your spirit from this house, Captain. I was misled by this man right here. I will not make that mistake again. You are safe now."
"Who… exorcised… me…?" the voice demanded to know. "What's… happening… to me? I don't… understand…"
"You were with the spirits," Madame Tibaldi replied happily. "And now you are back here. Right where you belong."
"Where… is here?" the male voice demanded crossly, as it strengthened still further.
"Gull Cottage…" Madame Tibaldi replied, hesitation creeping into her voice. "It's your home. Don't you recognise it? Don't you remember it? Look around you. Does anything seem familiar?"
"I can't… see anything…" the disembodied voice replied in confusion. "I've never heard… of a house called Gull Cottage… I never lived there…"
"Oh, dear…" Madame Tibaldi wrung her hands together in agitation. "Oh, deary me…"
She turned anxiously to Carolyn. "Maybe you should be the one calling him, my dear. He seems to be quite stuck between worlds and doesn't know where he is. He may not remember my voice."
Carolyn sighed, wondering how much more she could take. "Captain Gregg…" she called softly. "Can you hear me?"
"I hear… you…" the voice intoned as a face began to take shape above the urn, wreathed with smoke. "I think… I can see you now, too…" A man's bearded face swam into hazy view.
"There! I knew it!" Madame Tibaldi pointed. "There he is!"
Floating within the smoke from the urn, the summoned spirit looked nothing like Daniel. He was much older and grey-haired, still indistinct, fading in and out before almost vanishing again.
"Who's that?" Claymore put a hand to the side of his mouth as he leaned toward Carolyn. "I mean, that's not Captain Gregg."
"I'm not sure…" Carolyn stared at the stranger's deeply lined face in the smoke, trying to remember where she'd seen him before.
"Go ahead and tell the Captain how you really feel about him, my dear," Madame Tibaldi encouraged her urgently, waving a hand at the apparition. "He needs to know. Then I can bring him all the way back to you."
"Ah, I don't think that's Captain Gregg..." Carolyn replied slowly. "In fact, I'm sure it's not."
"It's not?" Madame Tibaldi blinked in confusion. "Then who is it? Oh help, have I done it again? I'm sure the captain is near. Maybe this spirit is just a messenger for him. It can happen. Other spirits like to push in to talk all about their doings and old sea battles. It can be quite tiresome."
"I don't like this." Claymore tugged urgently at his tie, looking toward the door. "We don't need any more ghosts in this house."
"Tell us your name, good fellow," the medium commanded.
But the apparition only stared at her, seemingly lost for words. He continued to float within the smoke, looking all around in a confused manner.
"I don't believe it!" Daniel materialised beside Carolyn, glaring at the smoky face. "What in the name of the Great Horn Spoon is he doing back here!? I will not allow him to remain for another second in my house!"
"Who is it?" Carolyn questioned in a desperate whisper. "I've been trying to place his face."
"I knew this whole charade was a bad idea from the start!" Her husband stabbed an accusing finger at the apparition. "That miscreant is the late, unlamented, blasted Horatio Figg! The foolish woman has managed to contact the wrong sea captain! He died of disgraceful old age in his own bed and certainly not in any confounded battle at sea!"
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