253The Captain's Cottage
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.
This fanfic is an Alternative Universe combination piece using the canon characters as seen in the Season 1 episode The Medicine Ball and Vanessa. The Season 2 episodes The Ghost Of Christmas Past and Curious Cousin along with the scripts and my own original work to flesh out and combine the episodes into a cohesive whole.
I have enjoyed myself hugely with this work.
I make no monies from any of my fanfics, only the joy and delight of creation.
"If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. If they don't, they never were..."
Kahlil Gibran
Chapter One
Escape To Schooner Bay
Philadelphia, Summer 1868:
Mrs Carolyn Muir, a young, attractive widow, with two small children to provide for, was almost destitute. Like an ill-fitting garment, the circumstance was very difficult for her to wear after being comfortably situated all her life.
Additional to the already distressing burden, were the pitying looks and unkind comments from her family and acquaintances. As if it had somehow been all her fault that she'd been left with little more than the clothes on her back and a small inheritance from her great-aunt.
"I wish I knew what to do for the best…" she whispered, sitting with her mother in the front parlour of her parental home, waiting for her latest ardent suitor to call.
Of course, Carolyn knew it was Robert, her late husband, who'd been the one at serious fault and had gambled carelessly with their future. He'd listened to bad investment advice before catching a fatal chill and going to an early grave almost drowning in debt. He'd never asked his wife for her opinion on their finances and she'd been forced to sell everything to pay off all his creditors.
Two years had passed since that fateful August day. Whenever she thought about him now, Carolyn did miss Robert. But more for the sake of her children than herself. He'd been a good father, making time for them whenever he could get away from his position in his father-in-law's bank.
He didn't enjoy the work because he'd never been very good at figuring. He liked to be home, reading by the fire and dreaming of a different life while enduring the one he had.
Regrettably, in their seven short years of marriage, Robert had never once managed to touch his wife's lonely and confused heart. Carolyn was painfully aware that the fanciful organ suffered from the lack of love, not because of its loss.
Early in her marriage, she had come to suspect that she was incapable of loving any man. She'd felt nothing beyond a motherly kind of compassion whenever Robert had touched her. And making love with him had been something to be endured, not enjoyed.
At first, there had been an element of danger and excitement in the fact they'd eloped rather than go through with the elaborate wedding that her mother had planned for them. The impetuous idea to run away from it all had been Carolyn's. Robert had ever after nursed an unspoken resentment that he'd been so easily persuaded to break all social convention and put his reputation at risk.
Carolyn's resentment had arisen from her late husband risking everything by staking all they owned on a dubious property investment that proved not to be worth the paper it was written on. Another skill Robert disliked in his pretty, young wife was her excellent ability with figures and balancing a ledger.
She'd seen in an instant where all his careful calculations had been in serious error. Robert had died not long after.
"If only he'd talked to me…" Carolyn tugged at the end of one of her long blond curls where it fell over her shoulder as she shifted uneasily on her mother's brocaded couch.
Robert had no right to do as he did. If there was any resentment to be harboured, then it was Carolyn's alone. And she did so in frustrated silence.
"Please, do stop fidgeting," her mother commanded in a tired tone. "And try to look as if you are content to receive Mr Masterson. He will be here any minute now, and he has travelled a long way to make your acquaintance."
"I will be civil, Mother," her dutiful daughter reassured her. "For your sake. But you know I do not wish to marry again."
"It is not your civility he seeks," her mother reminded her tersely. "Your gratitude that he is comfortably situated and well able to care for you and your children would be more appropriate. And marriage is the only option for a young woman in your straitened circumstances. I wish you would understand that."
"Yes, Mother…" Carolyn shook her head, knowing it was completely useless to argue.
After everything had been settled, moving back beneath her parents' roof, with her children and her trusted housekeeper-companion, Martha Grant, had been Carolyn's only option. But her mother's lukewarm welcome was now wearing very thin due to her daughter's stubbornness to see reason and marry again as soon as decently possible.
Almost a year beyond the end of her socially prescribed mourning period, Carolyn was still firmly mired in the city's marriage mart. There seemed to be no escape from the numerous suitors who were invited to present themselves at her parents' door, seeking her hand, if not her heart.
They soon left again, disappointed. Even in her near penniless state, Carolyn refused to entertain any of their suits beyond what was socially polite and expected of her. She simply did not want, or desire, another husband. But her mother was unrelenting.
Carolyn could only hold herself aloof, especially when the various gentlemen callers tried to take her hand to press a fervent kiss to the backs of her fingers. She kept her hands tightly folded in her lap and remained mostly silent, leaving her mother to do her best to entertain their latest visitor.
The parlour door opened now and a rather portly Mr Masterson removed his hat as he duly presented himself to his hostess. He was older than the others, a man eagerly seeking a third wife after sadly losing the second Mrs Masterson to sickness.
"Your servant, Madam…" He turned to bow to Carolyn, his keen eyes approving of her youthful beauty.
"Good afternoon, sir," she acknowledged softly, standing to drop a quick curtsy, all the while keeping her eyes down and her hands tucked out of reach in the folds of her skirt.
If Masterson was expecting a warm welcome from the quiet young woman he had come to call upon, he was going to be disappointed. He stood in the middle of the carpet looking somewhat non-plussed and confused.
"Shall we take tea?" Emily Williams offered, doing her best to make her guest feel at his ease.
An uncomfortable hour ensued, where Carolyn's mother made conversation while Carolyn contributed only what was required of her. In the end, Mr Masterson collected his hat and left, a deeply disappointed man.
"You know we love you dearly," Emily Williams told her daughter, wringing her hands in despair as the front door shut. "But you need a husband, and your children, a father. It is high time you put away your widow's weeds, and selfishness, and thought of them."
"I am thinking of Candy and Jonathan," Carolyn tried to explain. "It's just that—"
"It doesn't appear that way," her mother interrupted, pressing the back of her hand to her lips. "We cannot house you forever without even the prospect of another marriage. My poor nerves are totally unsuited to the constant disruption and noise of small children clattering about. And as for that dog, you insisted on bringing into this house…"
"My children are as quiet as church mice," Carolyn replied. "And Scruffy bothers no one. I am sorry, but I cannot find love in the eyes of any of the men who come to court me."
"Love!" Emily scoffed sharply. "An overworked emotion that will soon fade along with your youth and beauty. And then no man will want you. Why your father had only recently lost his first wife when I consented to marry him. He desired a second wife and I needed a husband before I turned twenty-five and found myself left on the shelf. I didn't love him then, but now we rub along very well together. We are good friends."
"But I want more from a marriage than just rubbing along together," Carolyn countered trying to keep her distress from her tone. "I want to feel something for my husband beyond mere friendship."
She could not share her doubts that she truly felt incapable of loving any man. She knew her mother would not understand such tortured emotions and would quickly dismiss them out of hand.
She also could not share her desire to become a published author. She'd dabbled a little in the literary market, publishing a few articles under the assumed masculine nom-de-plume of Daniel Muirto avoid detection.
She liked the name, having taken it from one of her favourite authors, Daniel Defoe. But she had yet to make enough money to be able to set up her own household, away from the strained atmosphere of her parent's house. The dependency on their good graces only made her hungrier for some kind of freedom beyond the strict bounds of marriage.
Robert had become aware of her writing activities and been appalled, commanding her to desist immediately. But Carolyn had continued in secret, managing to avoid detection with the help of Martha, her trusted friend and confidante.
"You want too much from life. You always have." Emily frowned at her daughter, shaking her head. "You are going to be doomed to a lonely widowhood without a man or a penny to support yourself with. Lord knows I've tried to make you see reason. I shudder to think what your in-laws must be making of the situation right now. They await to hear the welcome news of your engagement."
"The Muirs are not my keepers," Carolyn asserted. "I have my own mind."
"Yes, and a stubborn one it is." Her mother sighed brusquely. "Ralph Muir has made you a perfectly sound offer to take on the care and education of your children. Marjorie is so delighted with the prospect. Think of it. The best schools money can buy. The children would want for nothing."
"Except the love and support of their own mother," Carolyn replied in a tight voice. "You know I have already refused their generous offer. I will not countenance it. Please do not speak of it again, Mother."
"Very well. Then the only course now is for you to find a paid situation in a suitable household. But with two small children at your skirts and that wretched dog…"
Emily stood to take a turn around the parlour. "If you won't listen to me, we shall see what your father has to say, when he returns home. You will abide by his ruling and put aside such nonsensical ideas as making a love match. It is becoming very tiresome."
"Yes, Mother." Carolyn stood to courtesy stiffly before retiring to her room and the uncomplicated company of her children.
Dusk was falling when Bradford Williams returned from his bank, seeking the peace of hearth and home. Instead, he walked into a maelstrom of overworked emotions and a crying wife clutching her smelling salts and prattling on about ungrateful children.
"I see… I see…Yes…" He listened patiently to her impassioned tirade until Emily finally ran out of breath and fell back against the pillows of her bed.
"I will talk to her…" Shaking his head, he commanded his wife's maid to attend to her mistress before he went in search of his wayward daughter, finding her in her bedroom, waiting for him with a mutinous expression. Thankfully she was alone.
Carolyn sighed. "It will do no good to remonstrate with me, Father. It seems I am a lost cause. What is to become of me?"
"You are a woman." Her father shook his head in despair. "Given to riotous emotions and frivolous fancies about love having anything to do with marriage. You must be sensible to the straitened nature of your position and accept one man's suit. It would be for the best, for all of us."
He adjusted the fit of his wire-rimmed eyeglasses nervously. "I will have no peace until you do as your mother wishes."
"Oh, I understand that only too well…" Carolyn turned a denying shoulder. "I married Robert because of familial expectations. Am I not now able to suit myself, since I have already fulfilled my duties of becoming a wife and mother?"
She sighed her discontentment. "Both my cousins, Harriet and Hazel, suited themselves when Uncle David died. No one tried to push them into marriage they didn't want for the sake of the family. They sailed for Europe two years ago and have not bothered to tell the family of their doings or even where they are now. Mother should worry about them and leave me out of her plans."
"Carolyn…" her father said warningly, all too familiar with the determined set of her chin. "You well know that Hazel and Harriet are both women of independent means. My late brother left them very well off and able to please themselves if they married or not. You do not have that luxury. You know we only want what is best for you."
"I live here because I have nowhere else to go, Father. As well you know. If I could afford to set up my own household, then I would no longer need be a drain on your purse and your time."
"You shouldn't talk like that," her father remonstrated. "You know if your mother's nerves were stronger and better able to cope with upsets then we would welcome you to reside with us for as long as you wish. She still worries for you."
"But…" Carolyn looked at him significantly.
"But life is never that simple," her father replied in defeat. "If you would just wed and settle down. Then you may do as you please in your husband's household. I am sure it would work out for the best."
"For whom?" his daughter raised her brows at him. "Certainly not for me. If Mother would consent to leave me alone to do my writing and finding a publisher. But she worries over that too. She says no man would want a bluestocking for a wife. I would have to give up the one thing that gives me pleasure in this world besides caring for my children."
"My dear, a man does not want a wife who has such independent thoughts. You must see that. Your mother wants you to be happy."
"Somehow I doubt that," Carolyn replied mutinously. "Surely you can see how unhappy I am? It is not fair!"
"The world is not fair," Bradford replied heavily.
After that, he soon lost the battle to make her see reason. His daughter listened politely, as she always did, but she appeared unmoved by any of her father's well-structured arguments.
Defeated, he finally left her alone, knowing that his hands were tied and he needed to find a solution and quickly. Or his home life was going to fall into utter ruin and he would be forced to spend his free time at his club to get some modicum of peace.
"Women…" he grimaced as he retired to his study and settled to the simpler task of opening the day's mail.
One missive caused him to pause and frown. He studied the return address closely before extracting the letter inside. It was from his late wife's youngest brother. A self-made man who'd lived his entire life in a small fishing town on Maine's wild and windy coast.
Claymore Gregg had written, bemoaning the awful lack of suitable applicants for the position of his clerk of office. Bradford settled back into his chair to read further with deepening interest.
'I stand in dire need, brother. Could you oblige me immensely by sending out to me a suitable junior clerk from your bank on a three-month trial basis? With a view to making the position permanent if the clerk proves to be of sufficient competency to work unsupervised. I trust your opinion and I am willing to consider anyone you deem suitable.'
"By Jove, this might be just the solution!" Bradford jumped up from his chair to hurry in search of his wife.
He found her in the dining room seeing to the arranging of the table cutlery for dinner. She was still clutching her kerchief and smelling salts, but appeared calmer.
Bradford closed the door behind him so the servants could not overhear. "If Carolyn will not accept a suitable proposal of marriage, then perhaps I have the answer."
He waved the letter. "Here is an offer of a paid position in a respectable household. My late wife's younger brother, Claymore Gregg, seeks to employ a clerk of office for all his business dealings. He says he is in desperate need and will consider anyone I deem suitable."
"It sounds well enough…" Emily frowned. "At least the position is with family. But if my memory serves me correctly, Claymore Gregg is barely ten years older than Carolyn. Surely that would be a most unsuitable arrangement, a young widow and a bachelor living beneath the same roof. What will people say?"
"That issue has already been addressed. It seems Claymore deeply values his privacy and eschews anyone living under his roof." Her husband held the letter out. "He writes that he will provide a small cottage for his clerk at a reasonable rent. With two bedrooms, it will be sufficient for Carolyn's needs. And she will have her woman companion to mind the children while she attends to her duties. I will say I would be glad to see the back of that woman. She is far too familiar for my liking."
Emily read the letter quickly. "Your brother-in-law seems to be a man of some substance in the town. He holds several important posts."
"He is." Bradford nodded. "He's the town clerk, magistrate and a justice of the peace among other roles. He also buys and sells property. I can see why he says his affairs stand in dire need of a competent clerk."
"But how can you be sure he will accept a mere woman for the position? Especially with two small children and a dog. Surely he will quibble at such an imposition even if we are family."
"I have already given that thorny question some consideration." Bradford stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Not if I make a strong recommendation and worth his while. The one thing I remember about Claymore Gregg is that he values money above all things. If I offer to pay all Carolyn's expenses and we provide her with a small stipend, then I hope he will be mollified enough to look beyond the serious drawback of her gender."
He retrieved the letter, folding it back into its envelope. "She knows how to add and subtract her figures and can balance a ledger as well as any man. And better than most. I have taught her that, at least. If nothing else."
"It could serve until she is suitably remarried." His wife's brow creased in doubt. "But this Schooner Bay… it sounds wild and terribly remote. Could there be any eligible men in such a God-forsaken place?"
"From what little I know of Maine; they are all said to be either pirates or fishermen." Bradford shrugged. "But if our daughter refuses to consider remarrying, then she must work for her keep."
"Yes, she has already turned her nose up at all manner of bankers, merchants and businessmen. Mr Masterson was a respectable and wealthy farmer. Perhaps a man of the sea is exactly what she needs to pull her out of herself and make her sensible to her straitened situation. Heaven knows I cannot."
She sighed dramatically. "And my nerves simply cannot endure many more days of this constant worry and disappointment. I am beginning to feel quite pale."
Bradford patted her hand. "I know, my dear, I know…"
He adjusted the set of his eyeglasses as he pocketed the letter. "We shall inform Carolyn of our decision after dinner. You will see. It will all work out for the best. Perhaps some fresh sea air will put the roses back in her cheeks and make her more sensible to securing her future."
His wife nodded slowly. "Perhaps Claymore Gregg could be a suitable suitor for her?"
"I doubt it." Her husband shook his head. "The man is extremely careful with his money. Taking on a woman with two children would go against everything I know of him. I believe he likes to live frugally and enjoys his solitary lifestyle too much to ever change his habits."
"A pity…" Emily sighed. "That would have been the perfect solution."
"Yes. Please don't upset yourself." Her husband put his hand on her arm and patted it. "It will work out for the best. If Carolyn settles and applies herself, then we would be able to take that vacation to the warmer climes that we have been promising ourselves."
"Oh, yes…" Emily brightened immediately. "I would enjoy that immensely."
"Then consider it done." Bradford sighed, grateful to have diverted his wife's mind from their daughter's stubborn behaviour.
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