Chapter Four

Sailing Away

One Year Later…

"Now, Mrs Muir, don't forget I'm not here for lunch today," Martha remarked, sitting in her chair at the kitchen table. "Our ladies' reading circle has been asked to host our sister group from Beacon Cove. They're very keen to visit us. And, as Schooner Bay's president, it'll be my job to keep an eye on them all. See to it that they keep their long noses out of our business."

"Yes, I remember. I'll keep away from town until they've all gone home again." Carolyn nodded before taking a last bite of her breakfast toast. "We can't be too careful."

Seated on the other side of the breakfast table, the Captain shook his head as he lowered his newspaper. "More breathless ladies getting together to discuss the finer points of your latest naval captain's manly measurements. If I'd known that this was how our becoming a famous author was going to turn out…"

"Don't forget whose idea it was." Carolyn laughed.

"How can I forget?" He raised an ironic eyebrow. "I am surrounded by chattering women who do nothing but talk about their latest racy dreams. I swear, since I've been forced to sit in on quite a few of those meetings, I'm constantly amazed at the dizzying heights of their flights of fancy. Some confessions would certainly have made some of my most hardened crewmen turn beet red with embarrassment!"

"You said you were only going to those meetings to gather market research for our next book." Carolyn frowned at him. "You never said you would be eavesdropping on private conversations."

"And so, I have." The Captain chuckled. "But I often come away with a little too much information for my liking. I have blushed, as well. I never knew twentieth-century women were quite so forward or explicit."

"I'm sure it happened in your time, as well," Carolyn soothed. "Your mother just didn't tell you about it."

"My mother was a good and honest woman," he replied with a frown.

"As are all of us," Martha asserted as she shook her head.

She poured herself a second cup of coffee. "Remember, they're really coming to town because the Beacon Cove Bugle wrote an article saying that the Gregg name has long been associated with Schooner Bay. They're starting to suspect that the mysterious Carol Gregg might live here."

She frowned at them both. "These nosy women are determined to ferret her out while they're here. They'll leave no stone unturned. And we were so careful too, in how we received and sent out our mail, so no one would suspect it was you two writing those best-selling novels that's got everybody talking."

"All we can do is deny all knowledge of her." Carolyn shrugged. "Gregg is a common enough name in these parts, so I don't think we're in too much danger of being found out. Unless someone lets it slip."

"Morning, everyone…" Jonathan breezed into the kitchen. "Who might let what slip?" He slid his tall, lanky frame into his chair at the table, reaching for a slice of toast and the dish of cherry conserve.

"Nothing to concern you, dear." Carolyn shook her head, patting his arm.

"Ah, you're talking about those novels you and the Captain have been writing up in your room for the past year." Her son nodded knowledgeably. "I've seen them at Hammond's store, and it didn't take a genius to figure it out. Candy said as much too. We wondered how long you'd get away with fooling everyone before somebody rumbled your game."

"Smart lad," the Captain acknowledged with a wry smile. "But you cannot let on you know anything. We don't wish anyone to discover the truth for now. It would make our lives here unbearable."

"Don't worry." Jonathan shrugged. "No one bothers to ask me or Candy about what we might know. I may be fourteen now, but I'm still seen as the kooky kid who lives in the spooky old house up on the hill. And they don't bother Candy because she only reads the girlie magazines."

He grinned as he tapped his forehead. "But we both got it goin' on, up here."

"Children these days…" The Captain sighed. "I preferred it when they were seen and not heard." He winked at the young teen before he retired behind his newspaper once more.

"Anyway, Miss Grover's offered to host today's luncheon," Martha replied severely. "And I will thank you, Captain, not to attend this one. The poor woman has been trying for years to recover her standing in the community since that disaster over Captain Figg. I don't think she could take having another treasured family heirloom broken by an unseen hand."

"Miss Grover?" Carolyn nearly dropped the coffee cup she'd just raised to her lips. "How on earth did she get involved in your ladies' reading circle?"

Martha shrugged. "Well, it seems she's not quite the old, starched apron we all thought she was. Lorrie Hammond told me she's got a standing order for the latest titles and she's deeply into the naval ones. Miss Grover's become quite the closet romance reader since she found herself with a lot of time on her hands."

She began to tidy the used dishes. "She's mellowed quite a bit since that rather unfortunate incident over old Captain Figg. The Schooner Bay Historical Society voted in Sam Richards as their new president at their next formal meeting and Miss Grover has been at a loose end ever since."

"Well, I say she's looking for a new cause to foster," the Captain declared roughly, lowering his paper again. "I shall most certainly attend this meeting. She needn't think Mrs Muir is going to have anything to do with the likes of her again. We don't need her interference or her influence. And she may keep that blasted Figg right where he belongs. Disgracefully dead and buried in the graveyard under a pile of concrete!"

"Mrs Muir can speak for herself, thank you." Carolyn shook her head at him. "But I do feel a little sorry for the poor woman. The historical society was her whole life, and she's still utterly convinced Captain Figg was a genuine hero."

The Captain scowled at her. "Foisting a drunken, gutless wonder like Figg onto Schooner Bay was not one of her finer moments. It shows her poor judgement."

"It's ancient history." Carolyn shrugged. "You were right about Figg all along and you proved it. I doubt she will ever forgive that or forget it."

The Captain shrugged. "I do hope she's not looking for the mysterious Carol Gregg to be at one of these meetings. I'll bet Elvira Grover is hoping to promote Figg as a potential hero for one of Miss Gregg's upcoming books. She has not given up all hope of that ship coming in yet."

Carolyn hesitated. "Surely not. Oh, no, that would be just too awful."

"Stranger things have happened at sea," the Captain replied cryptically, as he returned to his perusal of the newspaper with a satisfied smile.

※※※※※

"Ladies, I would like to welcome you all to Schooner Bay…" Miss Elvira Grover stood proudly beneath the portrait of her ancestor, Captain Horatio Figg.

She looked around at her crowded living room with satisfaction. The turn-out from Beacon Cove was larger than the Schooner Bay ladies had anticipated, and Elvira was keen to take all the credit. There had already been much discussion and speculation over the real reason for the visit.

"We're very pleased to be invited," Mrs Myrtle Broome, the chairlady of the Beacon Cove Ladies Book Club, responded formally, rising briefly from her seat on the couch and nodding to the assembled gathering.

"And the ladies of the Schooner Bay Reading Circle are very happy you've consented to join us today," Martha responded, rising from her chair to be equally gracious. "We have become quite famous for our hospitality."

Mrs Broome clasped her beringed hands together. "Oh, we all can't wait to look around the town. Do you really think Miss Gregg lives somewhere around here? It would be such a coup to discover the lady at home."

"Of course, we're not at all sure Carol Gregg is even her real name," Martha replied quickly, looking around the room. "I guess she values her privacy. We should respect that and not push her to reveal herself."

"But if someone knows who she is, they should say." Mrs Broome looked offended. "We want to show her our appreciation for her most excellent books. They're just divine and so nautically accurate…"

"Ladies, ladies, please…" Miss Grover clicked her tongue, bringing the room's attention back to her. "Yes, well, a sightseeing tour has been arranged. But it will have to wait until after we have partaken of my set luncheon. I have gone to a great deal of trouble to make everything right."

There were some murmurings of discontent among the assembled ladies, but most took it equitably enough. Miss Grover stared the dissenters down, refusing to be swayed from her self-imposed course.

Captain Gregg materialised in the doorway. He looked all around the room with a jaundiced eye. He saw that Miss Grover hadn't removed a single thing from her extensive collection glorifying the late, unlamented Captain Horatio Figg.

In fact, it appeared the collection had increased by at least one item. The carefully repaired statue of Figg stood in pride of place beneath his portrait.

"Blast!" Daniel complained, wishing he had another handy teapot he could throw at it.

Across the room, Martha frowned at him, jerking her head toward the open door. He responded by crossing his arms and leaning back against the door frame, indicating he wasn't going anywhere. Martha sighed, knowing she was powerless to insist he leave.

Meanwhile, Miss Grover had clapped her hands for order and silence. "Thank you, ladies. Before we start, I would just like to make a small mention of my illustrious ancestor…"

She turned to indicate the portrait behind her with a gracious hand. "Of course, my dear, dear Captain Horatio Figg would make an excellent subject for the hero of the next book to be written by our very own Miss Carol Gregg. I am quite sure of that. I have all his adventures noted down in his sea journals. She only has to ask for their loan."

She simpered, looking significantly at each of her guests. "I mean if the lady herself happens to be among us today. One never knows…"

"That's why we came here," Mrs Broome responded. "There's a rumour going around Beacon Cove that she lives right here in Schooner Bay. We all know the Gregg name has long been associated with the town."

"So has the name of Captain Figg," Elvira replied huffily. "His family was very instrumental in the founding of this town. I stand by my statement. I would be happy to work with Miss Gregg on her next novel. I have a veritable fund of information on the dear captain. I'm afraid the Gregg name was badly sullied by that unfortunate incident involving that foolish midshipman, Daniel Gregg."

The Captain straightened up and glared at her. Martha jerked her head again, willing him not to create a scene. He subsided with a scowl of discontent.

"Well, that Figg looks a bit grey and old to be a hero…" one of the Beacon Bay ladies murmured in an aside to her neighbour. "He's certainly no Captain Wentworth."

"Not a patch," her confidant agreed with a sharp nod. "Nor does he look anything like the good Captain Lucious, our very own Lucius Beaufort…"

"Ah, yes…" Her companion sighed. "Now there was a real man…"

"Thank you, Miss Grover…" Martha rose to her feet, holding up her hands. "Ladies, our hostess has graciously opened her home to us today. We will take luncheon now, then we can go on the tour. If Miss Gregg is indeed amongst us, I'm sure she'll make her presence known in her own good time."

"Can't say fairer than that." Mrs Broome looked around her ladies, receiving their nods of agreement.

"Bravo…" Unseen by the rest of the group, Daniel applauded Martha's deft handling of the situation.

"I'm getting too old for this…" she murmured, shaking her head at him as she escorted the group into the next-door dining room where the substantial luncheon had been laid out.

※※※※※

Claymore Gregg stepped out of his office into the warm summer sunshine. Contented with his life and his lot, he hummed to himself as he turned to lock the door behind him, checking and rechecking it to be sure it was securely locked. Such things should never be left to chance.

Over the last few years, he may have lost more of his hair than he would care to admit, but his intense love affair with the almighty dollar had not diminished. Any day when he could spot an opportunity to increase his bank balance was a great day in Claymore Gregg's book.

Briefcase in hand he turned to walk across the street, intent on the happy task of collecting the weekly rents and fattening his already plump coffers. Nothing gave him greater pleasure than balancing his books every night.

As he settled his hat onto his head, two women hurried up to him, looking him over with deep curiosity. He politely raised his hat to them. It never paid to ignore potential customers. "Good afternoon, ladies. How may I help you?"

"Oh, Shirley, look! I think he's actually a Gregg!" One of the women gushed, pointing a quivering finger at him. "See the sign? It says, Claymore Gregg! Do ya think he's related to her?"

"Claymore Gregg, at your service." Claymore bowed to them with a puzzled frown.

He turned to indicate the signs nailed to his office frontage. "As you so rightly point out I specialise in real estate, summer rentals and insurance…" He puffed out his chest. "I can also perform marriages if either of you young ladies require a Justice of the Peace…" He sniggered at his own joke.

"Say, Gina, I wonder if he's married…" Shirley studied him closely. "He might be the lady's husband…"

"Oh, you don't suppose…" Gina breathed, clasping her hands together before sighing. "No, that's too much to ask. We don't really know if she's married or still single. Besides, I think he looks a little too old. Miss Gregg is a great deal younger than him. I'm positive of that."

"Ladies, I am standing right here, you know…" Claymore settled his hat back on his head. "I can hear you."

"Okay, Mister. You don't happen to know anything about Carol Gregg, the famous romance writer?" Shirley wondered. "Or where she lives in town?"

"Madam, I'm afraid I have no idea who you are talking about." Claymore shook his head. "Now, if you ladies are not here on business, you will excuse me…" He tipped the brim of his hat, turning away.

"Wait!" Gina put out a detaining hand. "This is her. Well, her book, anyway…" She reached into her handbag, pulling out a rather dog-eared paperback.

She held it out. "This was her first book. She wrote it almost a year ago. Do you know anything about her or where she might live?"

"Carol Gregg…" Claymore read the author's name while frowning at the book with disdain.

The title was trumpeted as 'The Captain's Forbidden Love'. Below that there was a period picture of a youthful-looking sea captain holding a young woman in his arms, as they both stood on the deck of a fully rigged sailing ship, looking out to sea.

"She's written four more books since this first one," Shirley enthused. "They're all so wonderful. So full of great nautical details. Miss Gregg is known for her historical accuracy. My favourite one is 'The Maiden's Stolen Kisses'…" She sighed dreamily.

"Oh, but you can't forget 'Passage To Find Love'," Gina reminded her. "That one's a keeper…" She too sighed dreamily. "Our beloved Captain Lucious. Lucius Beaumont was just gorgeous and the cover art's to die for…"

"I see…" Claymore shook his head as he took a step backwards, eager to be gone about his more pressing duties. "I'm sorry ladies, but I don't have any time for reading such trite fiction. I favour reality, like a good set of ledgers and the healthy state of my bank balance."

"Oh, but are you sure you don't know her?" Shirley persisted, following him. "We've all driven over from Beacon Cove. The Bugle said she lives here, somewhere. What a coup it'd be if we managed to find her first. Wouldn't Myrtle be so jealous?"

"We could offer you a finder's fee, of course…" Gina moved closer. "For the right information…"

"A finder's fee?" Claymore's attention was arrested. He adjusted the set of his tie. "Ah, um, just how much money are we talking about, here?"

"I'm sure we could make it worth your while…" Gina winked at him.

"Then I'm sure we could do a little business together…" Claymore looked right and left, checking to see if they were being overheard.

"Oh, do you know something about Miss Gregg, after all?" Shirley demanded breathlessly.

"Well, I might…" Claymore winked at them both and giggled. "Why don't we step inside…" He indicated his office door.

"Ladies, there you are…" Martha hurried across the street to them. "We all wondered where you'd got to."

"We were just looking around." Shirley shrugged. "Found this guy. He's got the same last name, so we thought we'd stop and ask him. But he reckons he doesn't know her."

"I don't believe I said that, exactly," Claymore protested. "Now, ladies, shall we get back to the small matter of my fee…" Again, he indicated his office doorway.

"Well, there's more than a few people in Schooner Bay by the name of Gregg," Martha interrupted smoothly. "Claymore wouldn't know anything. Come on now, we're all going up to the General Store to look at their selection of titles. You'd better hurry up if you don't want to miss out on the latest. And we can't be late for this afternoon's reading circle."

She led the two women away down the street. Claymore stared after them, confused by the confrontation, but now deeply curious about exactly what they had been asking of him.

"And just how is the redoubtable Martha involved in it all?" He frowned, recalling the cover of the paperback the woman had shown him.

"Carol Gregg…" he mused, visualising the name of the author. "Is it too much of a coincidence?" He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Stories full of great nautical details and historical accuracy, eh..."

His eyes narrowed as he turned to look up the hill in the direction of Gull Cottage. "Just what exactly have you been up to, Mrs Muir? And how can I turn it to my advantage…"

He turned back to his office, unlocked the door and hurried inside. He glanced out through the front window, watching the three women walk away up the street. He rubbed his hands together, chuckling to himself as he headed for his desk and opened a top drawer.

"Maybe, just maybe, I can finally get rid of the great millstone of Gull Cottage from around my neck and my dear, dear, great-uncle Daniel Gregg, too…"

※※※※※

"Why, hello, Claymore…" Carolyn opened the front door of Gull Cottage to find her landlord on the doorstep. "I didn't expect to see you. The rent isn't due until next Monday," she reminded him.

"Oh, no, no, Mrs Muir. I'm not here about the rent," Claymore reassured her affably, removing his hat as he stepped inside. "I just… thought, well, since I was in the neighbourhood, I decided to take the time to pay a visit to my favourite tenant."

"Claymore, have you been getting too much sun?" Carolyn looked at him doubtfully. "You don't often come up here, voluntarily. You know how much he detests having you around."

"But you're always on my mind…" Claymore advanced toward the living room, looking around warily. "We've known each other for several years now. Surely, we're on really friendly terms. Can't I pop by for a friendly chat?"

"A friendly chat about what?" Carolyn asked suspiciously. "You're not making any sense."

"Oh, I don't know…" Claymore walked over to the fireplace and frowned up at the captain's portrait. "Well, I mean, we know each other's deepest secrets, don't we? There's nothing hidden between friends that can't be talked about. Ghosts and all things that go bump in the night."

"Just why are you here, Claymore?" Carolyn followed him. "I am a very busy woman, and I—"

"Ah, yes, about that…" Claymore turned to consider her closely. "I was thinking that since your fortune appears to have been made, you might like to take Gull Cottage off my hands."

His expression filled with keen expectation as he drew a folded document from his inside jacket pocket and held it out. "For a suitably agreed price, of course…"

"What on earth would make you think I've come into that kind of money?" Carolyn laughed, ignoring his pieces of paper. "You have been out in the sun too long."

"Well, Mrs Muir, I've just had a very interesting conversation in town," Claymore responded with satisfaction. "I was accosted by a couple of lovely ladies from over in Beacon Cove. I discovered they're with a women's reading circle. They're here in town to hunt for the whereabouts of their favourite author…" He left his comment hanging, his expression eager.

"How charming for you," Carolyn seated herself on the couch. "I can't see how that has anything to do with me, or who you talk to in the street."

"Oh, they were looking for someone who appears to be very difficult to find. They were eager to discover where she might live. They even offered me a reward for any information."

"Then shouldn't you be looking for her in town? I can assure you I haven't seen anyone all day. I've been far too busy with my work."

"Ah, but you see, Martha was with these ladies…" Claymore perched on the arm of the couch. "I thought it was a curious coincidence. Your housekeeper and some ditzy women looking for some woman author named Gregg…"

"Oh, I see…" Carolyn nodded, waving a careless hand. "Yes, she did tell me this morning that the Beacon Cove reading group was in town. They're visiting the Schooner Bay ladies and Martha is the Bay's president. I cannot see any mystery in that. Martha is only doing her duty."

"That still doesn't explain why they were looking for a certain author." Claymore looked more certain of his ground. "A woman named Carol Gregg…" He paused significantly, raising his eyebrows. "An author with excellent nautical knowledge and known for her historical accuracy."

"Good for her," Carolyn approved. "But I still don't see how this missing woman has anything to do with me. I told you; I haven't seen anyone all day."

"Yes, you said," Claymore complained crossly. "It just seems rather odd to me that they're looking for this person named Gregg, first name Carol. It's not such a stretch as you may think, once you are in possession of all the facts."

He glanced significantly up at the captain's portrait. He didn't notice that blue-painted eyes had suddenly come alive and were filled with outrage.

"Ohhh…" Carolyn blinked at Claymore innocently. "Ah, I see. You think this female author you're looking for, is me." She laughed gaily, laying one hand flat against her chest. "I'm flattered, but I can assure you that she is not me."

"Well, I don't believe you," Claymore complained. "I keep all your secrets." He waved a hand at the portrait. "I don't see why you can't—"

Materialising behind him, Captain Gregg roared at his great-nephew, "Why, you lily-livered, penny-pinching knave! How dare you thrust your long, snooping nose into my house and go about upsetting Mrs Muir! I've got a good mind to…" He waved one clenched fist threateningly.

"I was only asking!" Claymore jumped to his feet as if he'd been shot in the rump. "It's a reasonable enough question. After all, we… you… me… we're family," he babbled.

Daniel advanced on him, impelling Claymore backwards toward the doorway. "Never! I keep telling you that I was the only son of an only son. I never met your blasted grandmother in my entire life, and I've been telling you that for years beyond counting!"

He reached out to snatch the sale document from his great-nephew's quivering hand. He tore it to shreds before he showered him with the remains.

"All right, all right, my mistake… Sorry to intrude…" Claymore crammed his hat on his head as he scuttled for the door. "Um, goodbye, Mrs Muir…" he called.

Carolyn appeared in the living room doorway. "Goodbye, Claymore." She shook her head at the Captain, who was holding the front door open for his great-nephew.

"Money-gouging sand shark," he remarked conversationally, as he snapped the door shut behind their unwanted visitor.

"I was handling him, you know," Carolyn remarked. "Now all you've done is reinforce what he thinks he already knows. He'll go running back to town to spread it."

"Not once I'm done with him. That spineless toad will keep his mouth shut. I'll see to that."

"My knight in shining armour." Carolyn shook her head at him. "You cannot keep all the dragons from my door forever. The truth is bound to get out one day. We need to face that fact and be prepared for it. Poor Claymore was just trying to get ahead of the pack to see what's in it for him. Go easy on him, for my sake. Please don't hurt him."

"Very well. But I won't have him upsetting you with his miserable, prying ways."

"I'm not upset." Carolyn shrugged. "I'm finding it all rather amusing."

"Amusing is not the word that comes to mind when I think of a penny-pinching ninnyhammer like Claymore…" the Captain admitted. "But, very well."

He shook his head. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a reading circle I must get back to."

"You are a glutton for punishment," Carolyn told him lightly.

"A ghost writer's work is never done..." He grinned, as he dematerialised.

※※※※※

Claymore hummed to himself as he unlocked and entered his office. Apart from his failed attempt to sell Gull Cottage to Mrs Muir, his day had been profitable indeed. Now the evening was drawing in and he couldn't wait to get to his desk and open his ledger to tally up the day's takings.

He doffed his hat, hanging it on the coat rack beside the door. He turned to lock up behind him before he pulled down the blinds at the windows, all the while humming a little off-tune ditty of happiness.

He turned back toward his desk and his humming ended abruptly in an upward screech of dismay. He stared at the apparition seated behind the desk, leaning back with his booted feet propped up on the blotter.

"Good evening, Claymore," his great-uncle greeted him.

"I… I… I've never said anything to anyone!" Claymore defended himself. "I haven't seen anyone! I don't know anything, and I won't tell a soul!"

"Of course, you won't." The Captain dropped his feet to the floor and stood up. "Because you know it will be the worst for you if you do." He advanced around one end of the desk toward his prey.

"I swear I'm mum…" Claymore swiped two fingers across his lips as he side-stepped his nemesis.

The Captain stalked around him in tight circles. "You don't know anything because there's nothing to know. Right?! You quivering bowl of blancmange with a larcenous heart!"

"Ohhh…." Claymore backed up around the desk. "Larcenous heart, that's a good one." He giggled hysterically.

"You are very lucky Mrs Muir asked me not to hurt you. If I had my way…" The ghost raised his closed fist.

"Yes, yes…" Claymore dropped into his chair. "You'll haunt me until the end of time. I know that." He passed a shaking hand across his damp forehead.

"Good, I'm glad we understand one another." His great-uncle l watched him closely. "Those women from Beacon Cove might have gone home for now, but they'll be back. We can be sure of that. I sat in on their meeting this afternoon and they are quite determined to ferret out the whereabouts of this Miss Gregg they're looking for."

"How am I supposed to stop them from looking?" Claymore demanded, taking out his handkerchief to wipe his brow with a shaking hand.

"That is for you to work out." Daniel shrugged. "You thought to make money by betraying Mrs Muir. You said those women offered you a fee for information. Well, I'm offering your miserable life in return for making sure they don't find anything out."

"They offered! I didn't ask," Claymore declared. "It seemed harmless enough. How was I to know it was the two of you writing those novels?"

"Fair enough. But if Mrs Muir were to buy Gull Cottage from you, the speculation of exactly how she suddenly came by such a large amount of money would run rife. That I will not tolerate."

"Of course, of course…" Claymore nodded quickly. "I'll make it my mission to squash all such foolish speculation. No one will hear a thing from my lips."

"For once we're in total agreement." The Captain leaned over the edge of Claymore's desk, impelling him back in his chair. "And I do not expect to find you on my doorstep any time soon unless it is by Mrs Muir's express invitation for repairs or the rent."

"Yes, yes…" Claymore eased the fit of his tie which was suddenly too tight. "You've made that very clear."

"Then I will leave you to count your ill-gotten gains. But remember I am everywhere, and I hear and see everything…"

Daniel faded out slowly, watching Claymore all the while. His great-nephew remained motionless until his irascible uncle had completely disappeared.

"That was close…" He slumped in his chair, his pent-up breath rushing from him in a heavy sigh.

He stared at his ledger, usually a source of happiness. But not tonight. He got up and tottered away toward his bedroom. He wanted to go to sleep and just forget this day which had started with such promise...

※※※※※