Musgrave Ritual: The Other Woman

[azriona.livejournal.com]

Canon Story: Musgrave Ritual
Title: The Other Woman
Author: azriona
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: I can’t help but wonder about Janet, the woman Brunton was seeing when he died. There must have been a reason he asked Rachel and not her for assistance – not like this answers that question, but still, I wonder. Not beta’ed or Britpicked; con-crit welcome. Mostly, I just want to know if it works!





“Janet, sit with Rachel,” said Mrs. Coulson; there was no one else. Rachel shivered, whimpered, flinched from the blanket I put on her shoulders, as though it were made of thorns. Her eyes begged me for mercy and atonement.

I think I knew then. I didn’t understand until later.

Mr. Musgrave says she fled to the Continent. I know better.

MUSG: An Ancient Error

[smoothe1.livejournal.com]

Canon Story: The Musgrave Ritual
Title: An Ancient Error
Author: smoothe1
Rating: G

My Sovereign,

Ere I goeth unto battle, knoweth thou thy bidding 'tis done. Thy treasure hideth in wait. Shouldst thou call ere my return, inquirest of my eldest. A keen riddle I've left him. He shall easily reckon and leadeth thou. The sharp Musgrave intellect shall preseveth my honor and thy trust.

Thy humblest servant,
Sir Ralph Musgrave of Hurlstone

A/N: The Musgrave Ritual intrigues me in an almost comical sense. What was originally intended to lead the holder of the note to hidden treasure turns into a mundane family ritual performed by rote for generations.

It seems to me that old Sir Ralph miscalculated the ability of his heirs to mentally cope with a riddle whose solution is rather ordinary. His overconfidence is seen in this, his last note to Charles the 2nd, before Sir Ralph is killed in battle.

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The Musgrave Ritual: A Heart of Stone

[marysutherland.livejournal.com]

Canon Story: The Musgrave Ritual
Title: A Heart of Stone
Author: Mary Sutherland
Rating: PG13

I learnt a valuable lesson at Hurlstone. Brunton possessed a first rate intelligence, but his death came at the hands of an excitable Welsh woman of no particular genius. Love is not one of the softer passions – as my boy Watson believes – but as hard and heavy as the flagstone beneath which Rachel Howells abandoned her former beau.