Chapter Twelve
Rescinding All The Rules
Carolyn rolled over in bed and draped one arm across her eyes. After the dark shadows of the belowdecks aboard the Mary Anne, the morning sunlight was overly bright. She groaned softly as she opened one eye to check her surroundings.
"Safe at home again…" She breathed a long sigh of relief as she turned to frown at the bedside clock.
She inhaled a startled breath when she saw the hands standing resolutely at eight o'clock in the morning. She'd overslept!
She was about to toss back the covers and leap out of bed when she remembered it was Saturday and she had nowhere to be right then.
"Thank heavens…" she breathed as she sank back onto her pillows.
Suddenly, someone knocked on the bedroom door. Pulling up the bedclothes, she called, "I'm awake. Come in…"
"Good morning…" Martha opened the door and hurried into the room. She was carrying a covered bed tray. "You've overslept so I thought you might be hungry. The children have had theirs and are outside playing."
She looked back down the hallway before she closed the door behind her. "We'll get on with the fittings of their costumes later. We still have time before the play."
"Thank you…" Carolyn pushed herself up in the bed for the housekeeper to place the tray across her knees. "I am hungry. I'm sorry I overslept. I didn't mean to."
"Don't apologise…" Martha sank onto the end of the bed with her eyes wide and inquiring. "It's all good as long as you had another of those dreams of yours." Her eyebrows rose. "And did you? Dream, I mean? Was it as good as the first time?"
She rubbed her hands together. "And was he in it this time?" She leaned forward keenly. "That Captain Webster. What's he actually like in person?"
"Bossy, overbearing, autocratic and commanding," Carolyn replied with a twist of her lips as she poured her coffee. "And totally magnificent." She swallowed tightly as she took refuge in her cup, trying to keep her face from growing warm with her emotional confusion over the dream.
"All rightee, then…" Martha blew a long whistle. "Now we're finally getting somewhere. You thought he looked a bit like the Captain. I still find that hard to believe, but it's your story. Is he even better in person than he was in the article?"
She helped herself to a cup of coffee. "Go on, don't stop there. Tell me everything. And don't leave a single thing out."
Carolyn lifted her shoulders. "Don't you find it a little odd that this second dream started exactly how the first one ended? I mean, is that just a coincidence?"
"Who truly knows how anyone's mind works," Martha replied a little impatiently. "Maybe it's easier for you since you know the story already. It could be as simple as that."
"I guess so…" Carolyn still looked doubtful. "At least, I can now complete the first three chapters and get them mailed away. Bridget said she would want to read them as soon as they were written."
"You're making good progress, then." Matha nodded. "We can talk more about your dreams later on if you still want to. Maybe there is no explanation other than that is how things are. But right now, start from the beginning…"
She settled back against the footboard and prepared to be entertained. Neither of them could see the spirit who was listening to their every word and smiling. Captain Gregg saluted Carolyn with two fingers to his temple as he listened to the story unfold just as he had placed it into Carolyn's mind as a dream.
"I think I have given you more than enough to be going on with for now, Madam," he murmured. "I do not wish to overtax your mind. And you have still to ask for my help with this new project of yours."
His lips thinned with discontent. "Why you have not already done so is beyond my understanding. And to what end are you doing all this? What new scheme do you have in your feminine mind that you must return to the past and this particular story?" He shook his head in puzzlement as he continued to listen as Carolyn's story slowly unfolded.
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A week later:
Carolyn leaned back on the couch against the far wall of her bedroom. She'd propped a pile of cushions behind her. It was late afternoon, and she had been reading a book for some time to try and distract her troubled mind.
It irked her that, for a whole week now, she hadn't dreamed again. She had written down everything she remembered and spent a great deal of time expanding on 'Maiden Voyage' to the first three chapters Bridget Lacey had asked for. Carolyn had mailed them away to her editor.
And then she'd waited. Nothing happened. Her night's sleep was no longer interrupted by the ongoing events aboard the Mary Anne.
Even Martha had stopped asking. Their communication about the subject was the housekeeper raising her brows at Carolyn as soon as she appeared each morning. All she could offer was a troubled shake of her head.
"Oh, well, then…" Martha sighed. "Maybe tonight will finally break the drought. I'll make you up another nice hot mug of milk and brandy before you go up."
But it didn't and nothing seemed to help, except the hot toddy had put her into a deep and dreamless sleep. So they would both go on with their day.
The only bright spot was that Bridget Lacey had telephoned three days ago for an update and had been encouraged by Carolyn's report of her steady progress.
"Keep this up and you'll soon be finished," she said brightly. "I loved what you've already sent to me. I'll start whipping up the interest. We'll need to consider cover designs and what story length we think is best. And it would be better if you came up with a new title. That will break any final link with your past works."
"All that sounds wonderful. But as long as my name doesn't appear anywhere on the cover of the novel," Carolyn remembered to caution her. "No one can know it's me. It was too awful last year when people found out. And I do think a new title will be for the best."
She didn't mention her dreams. She had the feeling they needed to remain private between herself and Martha. She couldn't put her finger on why, but it felt right.
"Of course," Bridget readily agreed. "It'll be between you and me. Just let me know what pen name you wish to use, and we will factor it into our designs. I'll leave the new title up to you. I'm really excited to read what you have. And I'm very pleased with the first three chapters. We won't need a synopsis since I've already read the magazine article so that's one less thing you need to do."
She chuckled softly. "I truly do think we have a winner here. We're going to take the literary world by storm with the tale of Miss Ryan and her delicious Captain Webster."
"Thank you…" Carolyn breathed her relief. "I hope so too. It was lovely to hear from you. Goodbye, and we'll talk again soon."
She sighed now as she tried to concentrate on the book she was reading. But she'd read the same page repeatedly and it still didn't make any sense.
She was about to give up and go downstairs when the Captain suddenly popped in. "Madam, this is our regularly appointed conference time." He folded his arms with satisfaction. "I am here to confer."
"Ah…" Carolyn felt relieved as she closed her book before dropping her feet to the floor and sitting up. She wasn't about to admit that, in her state of distraction, she'd forgotten the time.
"Well, I'd be delighted to confer, Captain," she said a little too brightly.
The ghost frowned at her. "Well, I've been thinking about our arrangements," he stated in a magnanimous tone. "And how irksome they are to you all."
He began to pace. "I'm willing to make a concession since you find it so difficult to abide by the rules…" He stroked his chin thoughtfully. I see that as only fair."
"Me?" Carolyn stood up, looking confused. She could not see she had done anything wrong.
"Yes…" the ghost replied slowly, seemingly in a truculent mood as he clasped his hands behind his back. "You do not seem able to steer a straight course. Therefore, I must guide you."
"I see…" Carolyn wasn't fooled. She stood up quickly. "Well, I think we're just muddling through splendidly. We are certainly managing to keep out of each other's way. You now have all the peace and quiet you wanted. At times, it's almost like we're not even here."
"No, I've been selfish," the Captain reassured her, bending close to her. "I have no wish to deprive you and the children of my company. I know the children pine for me and as for Scruffy…"
"Ahhh…" Carolyn nodded, now understanding. "You are being magnanimous."
"Aren't I always?" The ghost waved a confident forefinger. "I've decided I'm rescinding the rules," he declared, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "I cannot say fairer than that, Madam. You have quite won me around to your way of thinking. A rare thing for a woman to accomplish."
"Oh, but we like the rules," Carolyn reassured him, scrambling to think of a suitable answer. "They're practical and very suitable. You were right all along. I don't know how I could ever doubt you. Every one of them is considered and thoughtful."
The Captain glared at her. "Nonsense. They're harsh and unrealistic. I should never have penned them, nor imposed them upon you. They are an uncomfortable burden."
"Oh, not at all," Carolyn denied quickly. "I'm amazed at what I can now get done without you around. Think of all the peace and quiet you have now."
"Yes, they are what I say they are because I say so!" The Captain's voice rose. "This is a house, not a ship."
Carolyn shook her head. "Well, it has a captain and a crew. You've always told us that."
The ghost shook his head sternly. "Bilge! It has a family!"
Carolyn clung to her resolve. "We needed rules and organisation. You were right!"
The Captain shook his head. "You do not! I was wrong!"
Carolyn opened her eyes at him in disbelief. "Wrong? Not you. You've never been wrong."
"Yes," he snapped. "Me!" He looked entirely exasperated.
Carolyn pointed her forefinger at him, feigning confusion. "You need your privacy," she replied sweetly, starting to enjoy herself. "You wish to look up at the moon and the stars and not be disturbed. You said that."
"No man is an island!" the Captain roared in dissent.
"Except you." Carolyn refused to give in as she raised her chin at him.
For the sake of the children's party idea, and her ongoing 'Maiden Voyage' project, she needed him to remain angry and distant. As much as it pained her to provoke him into keeping his distance. There were only three more weeks to go until his birthday. She prayed fervently they could hold on until then.
"By all that's holy…" The Captain rolled his eyes toward the ceiling in total frustration. "The opposite sex…" he complained bitterly. "Why do they have to be so…" He raised a denying fist toward the ceiling. "So… confoundedly and downright opposite!"
He vanished in a huff and Carolyn breathed a sigh of relief at her narrowly won victory. Time was running short, and she needed another dream. She determined she would go to bed tonight and read her manuscript until she couldn't read any more. And she would drink two of Martha's hot toddies to try and force Captain Joshua Webster to reappear in her dreams! She needed him now, more than ever!
"Don't let me down now, Captain Webster…" she begged as she walked out of the room. "I need you to show me what truly happened next…"
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"Are you really sure about this?" Martha asked doubtfully as she made Carolyn a second hot toddy.
"Well, one didn't seem to work," Carolyn replied, accepting the mug of steaming brew with a nod of thanks. "And I've reworked the manuscript to the end of the last dream. Of course, I can still do more work on it, but it just isn't like actually being there. If you know what I mean."
"Well, all I can say is you surely have a powerful imagination. I have never dreamed like you do, and I've read the blessed thing." She smiled as she joined Carolyn at the kitchen table. "But if that delicious Captain Webster ever appeared in any dream of mine, he would never escape."
She laughed indulgently. "You've said he looked like the Captain…" She hooked a thumb toward the living room and the portrait hanging above the mantle. "For how you described him, I never thought of the old seadog as being that hot. Grumpy, terse and sour, maybe. But, hot…"
She shook her head. "I know that Madame Tibaldi saw a lot more in him than I ever did or could. A vivid imagination is a wonderful thing, I guess."
Undetected by Carolyn, Captain Gregg materialised quietly in the open doorway. He watched her with sympathy. She had denied his request to rescind his rules that she'd found so irksome. He knew one reason why she had required them to continue, but he was beginning to suspect there was something more going on in his house. Something more secretive that he couldn't put his finger on.
"And about the other matter the children requested," Martha continued as Carolyn drank the last of her hot milk and brandy. "I mean, have they finally come to their senses and had any second thoughts about that whole silliness about another cake?"
"Oh, I don't know…" Carolyn glanced around the room as she stood up and pushed her chair in. "I think it's good to indulge their imaginations just a little bit," she prevaricated. "Let's let them have their fun. It's not hurting anyone."
"Very well, if you say so…" Martha sighed as she rose to her feet. "But I still say it's a little bit strange. Imaginary friend, indeed. Why, I—"
"The children will enjoy themselves playing pretend," Carolyn interrupted quickly. "Let's not mention it again. I'll tell you when it's the right time. Until then, we're better to say nothing. We don't want to upset Jonathan and Candy."
"All right. You know what's best…" Martha regarded her doubtfully. "Though I don't know who's going to hear us talking about it. The kids are in bed and fast asleep."
"Which is where I should be too…" Carolyn stretched as she navigated her way slightly unsteadily toward the open doorway. "I wonder how this next dream will start if I dream at all. Good night."
"Good night and have some very sweet dreams…" Martha looked after her as she gathered up the used cups. "I hope…"
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Carolyn went quickly through her routine of changing for bed in the bathroom before washing her face and cleaning her teeth. Her legs felt slightly unsteady from the brandy she'd consumed as she made her way back to the bedroom and closed the door. She walked to the bed and pushed back to covers before she got in and leaned back on her banked pillows as she picked up the manuscript.
From the shadows hanging in the far corner of the room, the Captain had been watching her progress. "But the powers, my dear, you walk like a newly minted ship's boy trying to navigate his first rolling deck at sea."
He stroked his bearded chin. "I can only pray your overindulgence of Martha's hot toddy does not put you into too deep a sleep tonight. It's time for you to continue your nautical adventures aboard the Mary Anne."
He watched and waited as Carolyn made every attempt to keep her eyes open and continue reading. But he could see it was fast becoming a losing battle. With a last sigh, she lay back against her pillows, the pages of the manuscript drifting from her fingers into an untidy spill across the bedcovers.
Downstairs, the clock in the foyer struck the hour of midnight. Captain Gregg sighed as he walked forward to the side of the bed. He sat down carefully beside her, listening to the gentle sigh of her breathing.
"'Of all the things that cannot be…" he began to quote softly. "One alone means most to me. It's not the lure of distant shores. It's that my lips cannot touch yours. My lips cannot touch yours…'"
He shook his head as he leaned closer to kiss the curve of her cheek. Carolyn moved and murmured in her sleep, but she did not open her eyes.
Gently, carefully, the Captain shaped the strength of his hand to the side of her face, feeling the softness of her skin. He could not yet detect any warmth, maybe that was still to come with time. But the shape of her face fitted so neatly into his palm. It was as if she had been born to be touched by him.
"How truly sad, that you were not born in my time. Nor I, in yours…" he repeated his heartfelt lament from the very first night they'd met.
He'd watched her sleeping in his bed that night, as well. This achingly slow progress toward some kind of union had begun with that simple statement of longing.
"If only…" He drew a ragged breath as he couldn't help himself from indulging further.
He spread his fingers out to touch his thumb to her parted lips as he caressed the shell-like curves of her ear with his fingers. He indulged himself a moment or two longer by running the ball of his thumb back and forth across the sweet softness of her mouth where he could feel the slow movement of her breathing against his hand. Again, he could not detect any warmth.
All too soon, it was over. The effort it took to touch her in this way quickly began to take a toll on his reserves of strength. Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand away from temptation as he began to fade out in substance.
He inhaled deeply as he remained leaning close to her, close enough to touch and yet so very far away. "You shall dream again tonight, of your blasted Captain Webster. A man who will be able to touch you, in truth."
He grimaced at his inability to remain corporeal for no more than a minute or two at one time. But it was more than he'd been able to do the last time. It gave him hope that his powers were slowly increasing as, once more, he began to weave patterns in the air with his upraised hand…
"You think this night be nothing but a dream?" Captain Webster questioned her with a frown. "I think you might have taken a knock to the head, woman. Do you feel faint, at all?"
He reached out one large, capable hand and seized her upper arm. Carolyn gasped at the abrupt physical contact. His calloused fingers were hard against her soft flesh as he pulled her closer to look down into her eyes.
"Your eyes are clear, and you don't look like you've hit your head. I trust you're not about to suffer from a confounded fit of the vapours…" he growled, turning her from side to side in the fitful light of the lanterns. "I have no time for such feminine failings."
He stared at her, before admitting, grudgingly, "I'll say this much for you, you haven't fainted. Most women would have done so, by now."
"Disappointed?" Carolyn demanded to know, trying to pull away from his tight grasp on her arm. "I'm not most women. And stop calling me 'woman' in that demeaning tone. My name is… that is, my name is Miss Colleen Ryan."
She remembered her assumed role in this story just in time. Then a strong sense of deja vu came over her. She knew she'd said words very similar to those before. The night she'd first meet Captain Daniel Gregg in the living room of Gull Cottage. The frisson of mysterious memory feathered up and down her spine.
It seemed incredible to be having this same argument with a man who looked so much like Daniel. But Daniel was a ghost while this man was very much alive, if only inside her vivid imagination. His hand was firm on her arm and he seemed disinclined to let her go.
"Let me go…" She tried again to free herself by twisting her arm in his grasp.
Captain Webster ignored her attempts and tightened his grip. "Now don't go too far, Miss Ryan. I've been easy on you. That's because you've obeyed my orders since you've been aboard my ship. Damned unusual thing for one of your sex." He stroked his beard with a considering stare.
"I take it you don't like women." Carolyn looked unimpressed as she withstood his stare.
"It's impossible to like women." He shrugged. "Love them, yes." He smiled briefly. "Like 'em, no. They are a confounded nuisance to every honest man."
"Well, you must be a very aggravating man!" Carolyn felt like stamping her foot in frustration.
"Perhaps to women," Captain Webster admitted a trifle smugly. "But I've never been tied to an apron string or set by the fireplace like a pet poodle. Though, of course, many have tried." He grinned conceitedly.
"I suppose a man like you has a girl in every port!" Carolyn blazed, finding the whole situation untenable and eerily familiar.
"Ten – twenty – half a hundred, if I wanted them. I am a hell of a man!" the Captain announced proudly, finally letting go of her arm to spread his arms wide as he laughed.
Some of the men imprisoned in the brig behind them muttered and shook their fists. The rest pleaded and wheedled to be released. But none of them were impressed with their Captain's boasting and nor was Carolyn.
"We've only got your word for that," she shot back, folding her arms across her loose bodice.
In the heat of the moment, she'd forgotten her clothing was missing its buttons and now gaped open, offering him a fine view of her thin cotton undergarments if he cared to look. She grabbed both halves with her hands and pulled them together with a flash of dislike in her frown as she stared up at him.
"This is a pointless argument," she said in an icy tone. "It's getting us nowhere."
She didn't know what to do next for the best. All they had done was argue and she needed information. Some way forward for her to be able to flesh out the next chapters of her manuscript.
"Does your ship possess something as mundane as cotton thread and a needle?" she asked. "I must mend my clothing."
"Of course…" Captain Webster frowned at her as he suddenly cocked his head in a tense listening pose. "But such dull, domestic needs will have to wait…"
"The storm, Captain. It be acomin'," one of his crewmen muttered in a worried tone. "And it sounds like it's right hungry for our timbers. We'll be torn apart upon the sea."
One of the other men grasped the bars of the brig's door and began to shake them in his fear. "Let us out! Please, Captain! Ya cain't keep up locked up in 'ere! It ain't right! We be drowned for sure!"
"The lady will be safe from us…" another man quickly added. "We'll all promise you that. Just let us out. You need us."
"Stow your confounded blathering, you lot!" Webster commanded them in a harsh tone. "I'll let you out of there when I'm good and ready and not a second before! You'll break your oath the moment you're free and my back is turned. Then we'll sink, for sure."
He reached to take Carolyn's arm again in a hard grip before she could avoid him. "Come along, Miss Ryan…" He encouraged her to go with him. "We need to find a safe place to stow you from what we're all about to endure. I've tied off the ship's wheel, but she won't hold this course for much longer without breaking free."
He ignored the pleading cries of his men as he took Carolyn with him back up to the hatch and out onto the deck. She had to gather up her skirts again to keep up with his impatient stride.
"Where are we going?" Carolyn asked breathlessly. She did her best to keep her feet steady against the increased rolling and pitching motions of the ship, and the mounting waves began to claw at her creaking timbers.
She wasn't about to admit the movements were already making her queasy as her immediate horizon moved alarmingly. Confusion set in. 'How could I become seasick in a dream?' The answer eluded her.
"Somewhere you'll be safe enough to ride out the storm that's about to hit us," her terse rescuer replied. "I do not have the time to keep an eye on you."
He opened the stout, nail-studded door to a small, windowless deckhouse that had been built around the base of the main mast. He motioned her inside with an impatient hand. "Stay inside and do not come out again. Not under any circumstances," he ordered. "I will come for you when the storm has finally abated."
Carolyn baulked at the open door. "Oh, but…" she began to say. "Surely none of this is necessary. You don't understand. I could—"
"I understand only too well," Webster replied harshly. "You stowed away on my ship. We will talk about how you will work off your passage at a more convenient time. For now, I have a full-blown Atlantic storm to do battle with on my own because of you…" He pushed her inside and shut the door with a snap, leaving her to stare in consternation at the sturdy wood.
"Well, excuse me…" she muttered crossly as the fetid darkness closed in around her.
The impatient sound of his sea boots striding across the deck quickly faded as he walked away. Then all she could hear was the rushing sound of the mounting waves and the rising scream of the strengthening wind outside her tiny prison.
"Daniel…" she whispered, as she put the fingers of one hand to her lips.
She knew the ghost of Gull Cottage and Captain Joshua Webster were one and the same, but she still struggled to put the two men together in one person. The stark reality of the moment accelerated her breathing.
If the Mary Anne had not survived the storm, then she and Daniel Gregg would never have met. He would have sunk to the bottom of the stormy Atlantic and been doomed to a watery grave without a marker.
"Oh, no…" As the storm began to rage, the rising fear she now felt for his safety was genuine.
Of course, her rational mind reminded her he'd ridden out the storm and survived. He'd told her the tale for her article. But it didn't make this moment any easier to bear.
She knew it would be foolish to open the door and run after him. That would put them both in harm's way. But nor could she remain in this small, airless prison, waiting for his return like any meek and mild nineteenth-century woman.
"What if he doesn't come back? What if this dream doesn't end as it should?" Reality began to pile in on her and she could no longer think straight.
"I don't want to be here anymore…" she whispered against her fingers, feeling the sting of tears at the back of her eyes. "Please… I don't want to do this anymore. I want to wake up now…"
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