"Carol Gregg Presents…"
A Ghost and Mrs Muir Story
By TunnelsOfTheSouth
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The Ghost and Mrs Muir and all its wonderful canon characters are the eternal property of R.A. Dick and NBC Television Studios.
Where truly would we all be without the enjoyable skills and wonderful acting abilities of Edward Mulhare, Hope Lange, Charles Nelson Reilly, Reta Shaw and Scruffy. Please enjoy!
As always, I have enjoyed myself hugely with this work.
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"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back.
Those who wish to sing always find a song.
At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet..."
Plato
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Chapter One
The Beginning Of It All
Gull Cottage, Schooner Bay, Maine, Summer, 1975:
"Good evening, Mrs Muir," Captain Gregg said cordially as he materialised before the desk in Carolyn's bedroom. "And a fine evening it is." When she didn't reply immediately, he frowned at her air of deep concentration.
He shook his head at her furrowed brow and air of frustrated defeat. "You are looking a bit pale and pulled about, Madam. You need to breathe in some fresh air. You should leave whatever it is you're trying to do there and go for a walk in the front garden before you retire for the night. It will clear your thinking."
He stood with one hand behind his back. "If you desire it, I am willing to accompany you. It is a fine night for a convivial stroll."
He waited for Carolyn to look up and ask what he was hiding from her. But she didn't, and her ongoing lack of attention to his presence irked him. He urgently desired to have a proper conversation with her.
Seated behind her typewriter, Carolyn was frowning at nothing in particular. She has a pencil clamped between her teeth in an effort to concentrate on writing her latest article, but nothing was working tonight.
She sighed in frustration as she removed the pencil from her lips and finally looked up. "Oh, I'm sorry, Captain. I didn't see you there. Um, good evening…" she replied absently, her gaze still unfocussed and not on him. "You'll need to excuse me. I'm afraid I'm rather busy right now…"
Miffed at her muted response to his arrival, the Captain hitched one hip onto the corner of the desk. He still held one hand out of her line of sight. "I cannot help but notice that your latest composition appears to be rather challenging tonight. It's gone ten o'clock and yet here you sit idle and looking depressed. Therefore, if I'm interrupting your train of thought, I can depart and leave you in peace." He shook his head as he began to fade out.
"Oh, no, wait! Please, don't go…" Carolyn raised a detaining hand. "I'm sorry. The fact is, I've become rather sick of my own company. Nothing I've tried is working tonight and I have a deadline I must meet, or Claymore will be looking for a new tenant come rent day."
"Very well, Madam…" The Captain slowly reappeared, still sitting on the corner of her desk. His softened expression held a great deal of sympathy.
Carolyn made a dissatisfied face as she pulled the blank sheet of paper from the carriage of her typewriter. "So, no, you're not interrupting me, because there's nothing to interrupt," she admitted ruefully as she put the page down on the desk beside the typewriter. "I was thinking of taking a break, anyway. I'm just getting in my own way too much with this article. Maybe I do need some fresh air. I certainly need to find a fresh perspective and soon."
She leaned back in her chair, looking defeated as she tapped the end of her pencil against her chin. "I swear as the years go by it's becoming harder and harder to find a new idea and make it work. And lately, I feel all I'm doing is chasing deadlines and failing to meet them."
She raised her shoulders helplessly. "But I still have all the bills to pay. I'm trying to save enough to cover Candy's college fees. Jonathan's will be next. So, I'll have to think of something and soon."
She sighed again ruefully and shook her head. "After all, I am supposed to be a writer. It's how I make my living."
The Captain had listened to her complaints with an air of simmering impatience. "I suspected such might be the case by the long silence I detected from up in my wheelhouse, tonight."
He pointed with his chin toward the ceiling. "Over the years, the constant clattering of your typewriter has become very soothing to my senses. Once I detested the confounded noise."
He shook his head ruefully. "I remember when you first came to live in Gull Cottage. You were having a similar run of trouble with paying the bills. I offered you my help, then. If you remember I attempted to pass on to you one of my nautical tales about the Mary Anne and my many adventures aboard her. You sanitised my version until it was almost unrecognisable."
"Oh, yes, I remember that story only too well." Carolyn laughed ruefully. "That was the one that caused a very large stir among the residents of Schooner Bay. Your secret rewriting of my article earned me quite the reputation of being a wild woman. Everyone was whispering about me behind my back."
She shrugged. "I got all sorts of strange telephone calls and even Claymore made a play for me with flowers and chocolates. My poor mother nearly passed out when she read the article. It was deeply embarrassing and took months for the furore to finally die down and people to forget."
She frowned up at him. "But that was over five years ago. Why bring it up now? It's better left exactly right where it is." She indicated the bottom drawer of her desk. "It can't do any harm down there."
The ghost regarded her with a frown. "Because I have been doing a considerable amount of research on your behalf, my dear. For all of us."
His tanned cheeks coloured slightly as he finally withdrew his hand from behind his back. "Research, mind you, Madam, nothing more. I would not wish you to get the wrong idea about my intentions. But every good sea captain needs a sound and honest chart to be able to accurately steer his course."
He grimaced as he held out a small collection of thin, paperback books. "These are for you to look at and read. I am convinced they will assist you in finding some fresh ideas."
"I don't understand. What are these for?" Carolyn accepted the books with wary curiosity.
"Look at them and you will see."
"Very well…" Carolyn stared at the front cover.
It was a rather lurid picture of a man embracing a woman and kissing her neck while she lifted the frilled hem of her long skirt to the level of her naked thigh. She shook her head in disbelief as she gingerly sorted through the rest.
Each book had a title that gave a small insight into the contents. She turned them over one at a time to read the blurb on their back covers. They were a selection of stories set in all parts of the globe and in different time periods.
"Oh, my…" She blinked at the last book cover, where a brawny sea captain had a half-clad blonde woman clasped in his powerful thrall.
The embraced pair were standing on the cantered deck of a ship under full sail. She felt her cheeks begin to heat simply by looking at the racy picture. "I gather from the covers that these are supposed to be romantic stories?"
"Yes, well, they are supposed to be something of the sort. That one is largely inaccurate and full of lies and half-truths." The Captain frowned as he leaned closer to point at the book. "No sea captain worth his salt would dally with such a woman whilst his ship was under full sail. But we will leave that by for now. We'll call it poetic licence."
He stood up to turn and leaned his closed fists on the edge of the desk. "I discovered Martha has been reading them when she thinks no one is at home," he said wryly. "She was so engrossed in one this very morning that she barely noticed when I appeared in the kitchen. It made me curious about what was holding her attention so closely that she didn't even chastise me for pilfering a few of her freshly baked peanut cookies."
Carolyn shook her head. "Well, that is amazing. She must have been really lost in the book. I can see why if these covers indicate the contents of the novel."
The Captain nodded with satisfaction. "My point exactly. I was amazed at her level of concentration, so I decided to go looking." He indicated the paperbacks in Carolyn's hand. "And I uncovered the rest of these in her bedroom."
"Oh, now, Captain. You know Martha doesn't like you snooping around in her things," Carolyn replied severely. "I thought we had an agreement. No trespassing in the bedrooms, without permission."
"A mere bagatelle, Madam…" He shrugged his unconcern. "This is still my house. But I intruded nowhere that could be considered personal to a lady. Besides, these were lying out on her bedside table, in plain sight. I was simply passing through the room and happened to see them. And I knew immediately that they were the answer to everything."
"Oh, you did, did you?" Carolyn shook her head at him, knowing he was totally unrepentant and there was nothing she could do or say to change his mind.
"Yes, I did," he replied, looking very pleased with himself.
"Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to look at one or two of them…" Carolyn shrugged as she selected one of the books, putting the rest aside.
She flicked through it and went to the end to read the conclusion of the romance. It seemed satisfactory enough. The hero of the piece finally secured the hand and heart of his lady. She then studied the book itself.
It was a thin volume of around two hundred pages with a lurid picture on the front cover of a half-dressed young woman, swooning back into the brawny arms of a powerful-looking man dressed like a nineteenth-century pirate. His white shirt was open to the waist, and he had a black patch over one eye and a drawn cutlass in his free hand. The background was again one of a fully rigged sailing ship, heeling over as it ran before a raging storm.
"Fanciful rubbish." The Captain flicked a dismissive hand at the drawing. "Utter balderdash again, of course. No captain, not even a pirate scoundrel such as he, would neglect his ship and his life against a rising storm like that for the favours of some loose skirt of a woman. They would soon sink if he keeps that up."
"Oh, I don't know…" Carolyn considered the picture. "He looks rather dashing and very masterful. And she's pretty enough to be a true distraction."
"Madam, do not allow your woman's fancy to run away with the object of this exercise we are intending to pursue here," the Captain commanded sternly.
He stood up and folded his arms across his chest. "Should I adopt an eye patch and brandish a cutlass to gain your undivided attention?"
"Well, you did the day you saved the beautiful stowaway on the Mary Anne," Carolyn countered sweetly. "I mean the cutlass, not the eyepatch. You would have been something to see. You saved me from Ellsworth Gordon too. You also mentioned the time you tore up that tattoo parlour on the Barbary Coast. I can see this pirate captain doing that…"
She hesitated as she stared at the picture. "And a whole lot more besides…" She sighed. "I would name him, Captain Dreamboat…"
"Madam…" The Captain growled and set his teeth. "Have a care to what you say. You are being frivolous beyond all permission."
"Oh, am I? Very well…" Carolyn quickly dropped her eyes to the novel. "But you're a spoilsport. I was just having a little moment of poetic licence. You said it first."
She opened the first few pages of the book. "Hanover Books Presents…" She read the name of the publishing house aloud. She frowned at the title of the book which was declared as 'Taming Her Pirate's Heart…'
"Oh, my, I think she's certainly doing that…" She swallowed tightly, looking back at the cover picture. "It looks does… um, ah… rather racy." She glanced up. "And you say Martha was reading others just like this? That she's read all of these?"
"Avidly, it seemed from the look on her face when I swiped that last cookie. See how well they have all been thumbed and the pages turned down at certain points to mark the more lurid passages." He nodded. "Excellent, I knew you would see my point immediately. I'm pleased to be able to find the answer to everything that is presently troubling you."
"Well, I'm sorry. But I don't see your point at all." Carolyn frowned at him in confusion. "What do books like these have to do with me and what I write?"
"God give me strength, woman…" The Captain spread his arms wide as he took a quick turn about the room. "The answer is staring you right in the face and yet you cannot see it. It is beyond obvious to anyone with eyes."
"It is?" Carolyn turned the book over, hunting for his meaning. "Sorry, but I don't see what you're driving at." She shrugged in defeat. "I doubt what is contained within this kind of cover would be of any interest to me. Besides, I'm not a novelist. I write magazine articles."
"If I live for a thousand years, I never will understand women…" The ghost walked back to lean over the desk and tap the book cover with the end of his index finger. "Five years ago, you eschewed the tale of my amorous adventures aboard the Mary Anne. And yet here is a tale told in a similar fashion of just such adventures. This cover expresses all that is held within."
He waved one hand. "Apart from its obvious flaws and inaccuracies, which we can easily address given my knowledge of the sea and voyaging upon it. This is what you should be writing. Not some sappy piece of domestic fluff without substance."
"Thanks for the compliment." Carolyn frowned as she held the book up. "You're telling me that you've actually read this?"
The Captain compressed his lips. "Of course. I told you, it was for research purposes only. It took a mere hour to peruse. I will say the tale was rather tame and somewhat overblown. No pirate would treat such a woman with any respect. And the author's grasp of all matters naval is sadly limited. But the essence of a good story is there for all to see."
He shook his head. "Except for you, it seems, Mrs Muir."
A dreadful thought suddenly assailed Carolyn. She rose from her chair in horror. "Are you suggesting I attempt to write one of these… one of these…"
"I believe the current term that has been recently coined is bodice-ripper," the Captain supplied helpfully. "An old-fashioned idea, but it suits. I will admit I may have accidentally ripped a few bodices in my time. And there was the odd corset or two that needed the ready assistance of my sea knife…"
He rubbed his bearded chin as he smiled reminiscently. "And I would not say, 'attempt', Madam. You will be very certain to succeed, with my considerable assistance and knowledge of all things nautical. And the inner workings of a lady's boudoir are also well within my ken."
He grimaced. "But belay all that, for now. I told you once before that with my adventures and your writing talent we'd make the greatest team since Shakespeare. And yet, just like a hair-brained woman, you quibble and dither. You put me quite out of all patience with your female stubbornness."
"Well, I'm sorry, Captain." Carolyn shrugged. "Yes, you did say that. And I thought that Elizabeth Barrett Browning could also have been our inspiration if we were thinking of going down such a dangerous road. But I'm still extremely doubtful."
She smiled sweetly as she sat down again. "I have my copy of Elizabeth's 'Sonnets from the Portuguese' on my bedside table. If you wished to borrow it."
She propped her chin in her upraised palm. "'How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…'"she quoted softly. "'I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach…'"
The Captain cleared his throat roughly as he stared at her. "Thank you, Madam. I have my own copy. Signed for me by the very charming authoress herself. But you seek to distract me from my entire point with pretty words and fine sentiments."
"What?" Carolyn's eyebrows rose sharply. "You have met Elizabeth Browning?" She blew an envious sigh. "Why am I surprised? Someday, Captain, you are going to tell me all about the famous people you've known. Now there's a story worth telling."
The Captain waved a dismissive hand. "Kings, queens, potentates and scoundrels. They all lived, loved, then died and were decently buried."
His lips compressed. "Rabindranath Tagore once wrote that 'Death is not extinguishing the light. It is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come.'"
He pointed to the ceiling. "I have volumes of his collected poems and other works if you wish to borrow them."
"Thank you, Captain…" Carolyn sat up in her chair. "I'm truly impressed. You've been keeping some great secrets from me all these years. Did anyone ever tell you that you have the true soul of a poet? Of course, you want everyone to go on thinking that you're nothing but a gruff, old sea captain."
He studied her for a long, breathless moment before he quoted the last lines of the Browning sonnet she had begun. "'I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life. And, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death…'"
Carolyn's cheeks coloured and she looked away. "See what I mean? Pure poetry..." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth to stop herself from continuing down the same path and betraying her innermost thoughts and feelings.
In all the years they'd known each other, for her to now express her single wish for a closeness that could never be, had never gotten her anywhere but frustrated. She secretly longed to be able to walk into his willing embrace and have his powerful arms close tight around her. It would be heaven to be comforted and held against the strength of his shoulder and know she was safe and loved.
"I'm afraid I see only too well, my dear…" The ghost shook his head slowly. "I told you once that is the singular piece of magic I cannot perform…"
He studied her pleading eyes and wistful expression with deep regret. "Let's just say that Elizabeth Browning had the right of it. But I do believe it was Willam Woodsworth who said, "'That which having been, must ever be. In the soothing thoughts that spring out of human suffering. In the faith that looks through death. In years that bring the philosophic mind…'"
He sighed roughly as he picked up one of the books and waved it to emphasise his point. "Once more, you have distracted my train of thought. You must see, my dear, that this piece of trite fiction holds the key to securing your future in my house. All our futures. Don't you wish for that? For this financial millstone to be finally removed from your neck?"
"You know I do," Carolyn replied defensively, annoyed that she'd been so easy to read. "But Claymore will always have the last word."
The Captain shook his head. "Claymore will not hold sway in my house by removing you when you cannot meet your bills. I would see him on my side of the veil before I allowed that to happen."
"And I'm not quibbling or dithering over your idea, Captain," Carolyn continued crossly. "But I couldn't possibly…"
She moved uneasily in her chair. "I mean, how could I hold my head up in town if this sort of thing got out?" She dropped the book onto the desktop as if it had suddenly caught fire and scorched her fingers. "My mother would never forgive me. She would be on the phone to Harriet and Hazel at the first whiff of my doing anything so dreadful."
The Captain sighed. "Now you're the one being foolish beyond permission. Of course, none of such novels penned by you would be allowed to appear under your own name. You would write your stories under a suitable nom-de-plume. One we have yet to select," he advised. "What could be simpler? With my tales and your writing talent, we would make that winning team and solve all your issues in one blow."
"We tried that already, remember?" Carolyn sighed. "It gave people totally the wrong impression of me. Including that editor from 'Feminine View'. And you know how that ended."
"That was five years ago, Madam. Even I can see how much the world is changing around me, without my permission. You did say you have bills to pay and not a fresh idea to bless yourself with."
He tapped his forehead. "I have a thousand such tales, just waiting to be told."
"But…" Carolyn passed a hand over her eyes. She drew a long breath, exhaling slowly. "Why would Martha be reading such books?"
"Ask her yourself, Madam, if you don't wish to listen to me." The ghost stood aside to indicate the bedroom door. "I do believe you will find her in her room, searching rather unsuccessfully for a small pile of books she just knew she'd placed upon her bedside table only this morning."
"Oh, you…" Carolyn snatched up the pile of paperbacks as she got up out of her chair. "You truly do like to try my patience, at times."
"What else is a ghost for?" He smirked, as he watched her hurry out of the room.
He dematerialised, content he'd gotten his point across. He returned to his wheelhouse to await developments. He was sure Carolyn would see sense in time.
Carolyn shook her head as she hurried downstairs to the back of the house and knocked on her housekeeper's bedroom door. "Martha?" she questioned, opening the door slowly. "Are you still up?"
"Yes, I've just got changed for bed. Come on in…" Martha replied in a frustrated tone. "I'm up because I'm looking for something I can't find. I could swear I put them down here, beside my bed, only this morning. It's not like they grew legs and got up and walked out of the room."
"Ah, are you perhaps looking for these?" Carolyn held out the small collection of paperbacks.
"There they are!" Martha hurried to her. "I was so worried that Candy might have taken them to read."
"I think fashion magazines are more her style these days." Carolyn smiled. "I doubt she's opened a book in years."
"Still…" Martha placed the books beside her bed with a sigh. Then she frowned. "But why do you have them? I mean, how did you get them? Or shouldn't I ask?"
"Ah, I… That is, you see…" Carolyn floundered, sitting down on the side of the bed.
"Captain Gregg!" Martha guessed shrewdly. "He thought I didn't see him pilfering some of my peanut cookies in the kitchen this morning. He forgets I have eyes in the back of my head. I need them when Candy and Jonathan are around."
Carolyn nodded. "Yes, well, the Captain did admit to removing your books. But he said it was all in a good cause. He has a theory about something that I'm not at all sure about."
"How so?" Martha sat on the bed beside her. "I never thought a man like him would read romance novels like these. Tell me what's on your mind."
"He said he took them for research." Carolyn shook her head. "Um, do you remember five years ago, when that rather racy article of mine was published in the 'Feminine View' magazine by accident? And the furore it caused?"
"You mean, the one about the Mary Anne and the virgin stowaway?" Martha's brows rose.
She fanned her face with her hand. "Oh, my, yes. I remember that one, all right. It caused a real stir and I was quite shocked at the time that you could pen something... something, so, ah, rather racy. Why do you ask?"
"The thing is, I didn't write it," Carolyn admitted. "Captain Gregg submitted the article under my name, thinking he was helping me out."
"Oh, he did, did he? That figures. It was far too nautical for you." Martha frowned. "So why the interest now? Your mother won't be pleased. She still hasn't forgotten that last time."
"These books…" Carolyn reached out to take one from the pile on the nightstand. "You… enjoy reading them?'
"Oh, they're nothing but pure escapism, I can assure you, Mrs Muir." Martha waved a careless hand. "I'll admit your story about the Mary Anne put some of these stories to shame, but I know they're not your style. As you surely told that awful Ellsworth Gordon in no uncertain terms, at the time."
"But this is nineteen-seventy-five. Times move on, it seems." Carolyn frowned at the book. "And it seems tastes have, as well. My articles are not selling as well as they once did and I know that 'Feminine View' is struggling in a changing marketplace. Women now seem to want more than recipes and household tips."
"You know I was saying that to my ladies' reading group, just the other night." Martha nodded. "Your story still does the rounds among us. The ladies love it."
Her cheeks coloured a little. "I still have my very own copy of the magazine. The one you gave me the day it was published. You were so excited. Until you read it yourself, of course."
"You read these books in a group?" Carolyn looked up in astonishment. "How did I not know about that?"
"Oh, it's just a small gathering," Martha hurried to reassure her. "We drink tea and discuss books." She looked a little guilty all of a sudden. "One of the ladies bought some of these paperbacks when she was last down in Boston. She brought a few along to the group some months ago. Just light reading, she said. We all took one home to review."
Carolyn stared at her. "And your ladies' reading group still reads them?"
"I… well… we all found they were rather hard to put down. I mean, it's the covers that always manage to draw your eye…"
"Yes…" Carolyn shook her head. "But you said my story in 'Feminine View' is still being read. After all this time. I had hoped it'd been forgotten."
"Oh, yes, the ladies have always felt it was very well told. They're always asking me if you ever intended to write another. I told them that's not your style and the whole thing was a huge mistake. They were disappointed, but they understood. They know you're a widow with two growing children. You do not seek any more notoriety."
She looked into Carolyn's thoughtful face. "It was all a huge mistake, wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was then. But I wasn't aware such tales had become so popular…" Carolyn replied slowly. "How many of the town's women actually buy these?"
Martha shifted a little, looking embarrassed. "Oh, well, I'll admit we all have our standing orders down at the General Store. Lorrie Hammond took a bit of convincing that they would sell. But he told me only last week that his order book is always full. The townswomen can't seem to get enough of them."
She shook her head. "Of course, it helps that his wife is now one of my group. But the society ladies of the town would never be caught dead reading them. Or so they say…"
She smiled a little knowingly. "They get their maids or less well-known friends to buy them for them. It has all become quite the thing to pretend no one is reading them when we all know they are."
"Why am I the last one to know about any of this?" Carolyn studied the paperback in her hands with renewed attention. "How often are they published?"
"Every month a new batch appears." Martha smiled. "Some of my ladies have been known to drive all the way to Bangor to get more titles. We are trying to get Lorrie to expand the behind the curtain area where he keeps them. So far, no luck. "
"It seems I have been missing a rather large picture…" Carolyn mused worriedly. "Someone needed to tell me sooner."
"Oh, if you don't know who to ask then you'll never see them," Martha reassured her quickly. "Lorrie keeps them out the back of the store just for us. He's still a bit unsure. There are certain customers he would hate to offend with a display of somewhat questionable material. But since his wife became one of our reading group, he can't escape them."
She shrugged. "And they make him money, which he likes a lot."
"I still don't know what to think. But I can see I shall have to give this kind of writing some serious thought." Carolyn stood up.
"Take this one…" Martha pressed one of the books into her hand. "Tell me what you think after you've read it. I'm sure you'll find it a good read. This is one of a series of historical romances, which would be well suited to the Captain's style."
She shrugged. "The writing isn't nearly as good as yours. But this author is in print and sells her books very well. She has at least half a dozen or eight out each year. It's good money."
"I see. Escapism, you said…" Carolyn shook her head, but she held on to the book. It was the story about the pirate and his lady that she had been looking at earlier.
"I don't see that it's hurting anyone," Martha replied, slightly defensively. "I mean, we all know that such tall tales of daring-do are completely untrue. Just flights of fancy from someone's vivid imagination. But they sell and it is what a lot of women seem to want to read now."
"Of course, I can see that. But they are still only flights of fancy…" Carolyn hurried to reassure her. "I'll return this tomorrow. Thank you, Martha."
"You're welcome." Martha frowned. "But I'm not sure what for."
"For opening my eyes to a whole new world of possibilities and another way to pay the bills that keep coming no matter what I do. Good night."
"Good night, Mrs Muir…" Martha looked after her, as Carolyn left the room.
She stood up to fold back the covers of her bed, before slipping between the sheets with a grateful sigh and lay back against her banked pillows. She reached out to pick up a paperback from the top of the pile. "Now, where was I?"
Back in her bedroom, Carolyn shut the door behind her. "Captain Gregg?" she called.
The ghost of Gull Cottage materialised before her, looking well-satisfied. "You summoned me, Madam?"
"Yes, I did as you suggested and I talked to Martha. From what she's told me, I'm willing to admit I may be having a few second thoughts about these books…" Carolyn replied slowly, holding up the paperback. "Just maybe…"
"I thought you might. There is a good deal of merit in my offer, Madam. If you're willing to see it."
"Yes, well, if I decide to write one of these… one of these potboilers, no one, and I mean no one, is to know it's me," Carolyn insisted. "After last time with the furore over 'Maiden Voyage'. My mother couldn't sleep for worrying that someone from her church group might find out her daughter was writing such scandalous stories."
She shook her head. "I still have my 'Feminine View' reputation to consider for now. But if this new idea doesn't work…" She rubbed the bridge of her nose with one forefinger. "I'm not sure what I'll do…"
"My lips are sealed." The Captain swiped a forefinger and thumb across his mouth. "I will take your secret to my grave." He smiled with satisfaction. "And you can do this, Madam. You need to have more faith in yourself and me."
"I can't believe I'm even thinking of doing this." Carolyn shook her head. "But if it is the way the ladies' literary world is heading… You said something about my using a nom-de-plume…"
"I've been giving it some thought…" The ghost stroked his beard. "And since I am to be a part of this writing duo, I was considering a name that should include both of ours."
"Fair enough." Carolyn walked over to her desk and sat down. She inserted a fresh page into the carriage of her typewriter. "What did you have in mind?"
She held up a detaining hand. "That's if I agree to this crazy plan of yours."
"Of course, you'll agree. Because you can see the merit in my idea. Even if you won't admit it, yet…" The Captain moved to stand behind her, leaning over her shoulder as he frowned at the page. "As I said, I have given it quite some thought. I feel I deserve to share in some of the limelight since the basic storyline will be mine."
"Yes, I think that's only fair," Carolyn conceded reluctantly. "We will need to write a story that Martha said is called a historical romance."
"What else do I have but historical stories?" the ghost commented drily.
He frowned at the blank page, thinking. "How about Carolyn Gregg?" he finally asked, raising one eyebrow. "It combines both our names."
"Sorry, but I think it's too close to home, a little too obvious." Carolyn bit her lower lip in concentration. "I can't risk being found out. My mother would never forgive me and she would soon send Harriet or Hazel down to drag me back into line. Or she would come down herself. That awful fate we must avoid at all costs."
"Yes, that is a fair and honest point. We do not want any of those busybodies poking their long noses into any of our business. Then, what would you suggest, my dear?" he asked softly.
"Well… what about Carol Gregg?" Carolyn finally replied, leaning forward to type the name onto the page. She sat back to frown at it, trying to see how and where it could be wrong.
"Carol Gregg…" The Captain studied the name for a long time, before nodding. "I think you may have the right of it, Mrs Muir."
"Now all we have to do is think of a title…" Carolyn mused. "Nothing too racy. I don't want to become branded as some kind of modern-day Marquis de Sade."
"The Marquis was a man, Madam. And a blasted Frenchman to boot. But he could pen something worth reading."
His mouth curved. "As for a title, I do believe 'Maiden Voyage' has already been taken…" he teased gently.
"I think we should give that one a wide berth, for now." Carolyn quelled him with a frown.
"Very well, but it was an excellent story." The Captain picked up a nearby chair and brought it closer to the desk. He sat down, leaning back with his arms folded. "I think we're going to need something with a little more punch…"
"How much punch were you thinking of?" Carolyn asked warily, worrying about the dangerous trend of his thoughts. "I refuse to be a part of anything too saucy."
"Oh, I don't know…" Her writing partner considered her closely for a long moment, before he said softly, "It must be a historical romance, you said. How about The Captain's Forbidden Love?"
"Yes, all right. I think that could do nicely." Carolyn looked away in confusion, her cheeks warming. "It sounds very… historical…"
"Then it is settled. Type it in and let us consider our next move."
"All right, we have agreed on a name and a title." Carolyn drew a steadying sigh as she rolled the sheet of paper downwards in the typewriter, before typing in the title above the new name of the author.
They both sat and stared at it for some time. Then they looked at each other.
"I think it works…" Carolyn finally acknowledged.
"I think it will serve us very nicely." The Captain nodded. "I suppose we had better start at the beginning."
"I don't think there's anywhere better," Carolyn replied, setting her fingers on the keys as she waited for him to start speaking.
She still had serious doubts that his idea would even work. Surely it couldn't be that easy?
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