The Ghost

by Danielle Steel

  Sarah was thanking him as Margaret joined them. How long will the journey take? the young girl asked cheerfully, as Sarah and the captain exchanged a look, and he answered her.

  Six weeks if we're lucky, two months if we hit storms. Either way, we should be in Boston in October. He nodded, and Sarah silently hoped the crossing would go well, although she was going in any case. She had nothing to lose now. But Margaret was looking horrified at what she'd just heard from Captain Mac-Cormack.

  Boston? I thought we were going to Paris! she said, with a look of terror. Oh, I can't go to Boston, your ladyship ' I can't do it ' I can't ' I'd the ' I'd die, I know it, on a little boat like that. Oh no, please, she began to sob and clutch at Sarah's hands, don't make me do it ' please send me back. Sarah put her arms around her as she sighed. She had been afraid something like this would happen, and it would be awkward for her to travel alone, but she didn't have the heart to force the girl to come with her. She was far too frightened, and after a few minutes, Sarah told her to calm down and held both her hands.

  I won't make you go anywhere you don't want to go, she said quietly, trying to will the girl out of her hysterics, but it was no small task. I want you to swear to me that you won't tell anyone where I've gone ' no matter what his lordship does, or anyone says ' or even Mr. Haversham ' you must promise me you won't tell anyone where I am. Otherwise, if you think you might tell, you must come with me, she said sternly, and Margaret nodded frantically as she cried. Sarah had no intention of taking her anywhere now, but she'd rather frighten her a little bit, so the girl didn't go back to Edward and expose her. You must swear now. She lifted her chin with one finger, and the girl clung to her like a child.

  I swear ' but your ladyship ' please don't go on that boat, I beg of you ' you'll drown '

  I would far rather drown than live as I do now, she said calmly. She could still feel the bruise on her cheek, and it had taken days for her swollen lip to go down. And after his most recent rape, she still did not know if she was with child. But rather than tolerate his brutality, she would rather sail ten times around the world in the smallest boat they had. I'm going, Margaret. And since the girl was going back, Sarah told her to take the horses back with her. She had originally planned to abandon them in Falmouth, and had told the man at the stables to sell them for whatever he could get, but there was no reason now to do that. You must be very strong when they ask you about me. Tell them only that I left you, and I took the London road on foot. That will keep them busy for a while. Poor Haversham. Sarah was sure that Edward would accuse his brother without mercy, but in the end, his very real innocence would be his best defense. And once she was in the new world, there was nothing Edward could do to bring her back. She wasn't chattel after all, she wasn't a slave he had bought and owned, although he thought so. She was only his wife. All he could do was disown her, and refuse to pay her debts. But she wanted nothing more from the Earl of Balfour. She was going to sell the jewels she had, and do the best she could after that. At worst, she could become a governess, or a companion to a proper lady, if she had to. She had never tried it, but she was not afraid of work. She was only afraid of dying at Edward's hands. Or worse, not dying soon enough, and living long enough to be tortured by him until he died. And even at fifty-four, he could still live for a long time. Far too long for Sarah.

  Sarah and Margaret shared a tearful farewell on the dock, and the young girl clung to her, crying piteously, terrified her mistress was about to die. But as Sarah boarded the tiny brig alone, she looked unafraid. There were half a dozen other passengers on the deck, and they wanted to be off before first fight.

  She was still standing there, waving, as the ship set sail and Margaret could see her through her tears, as they left the dock.

  Good luck! she shouted in the morning breeze, but by then Sarah couldn't hear her. She was smiling broadly, and feeling happy and free and alive for the first time. And as the ship turned slowly around and left the English coast, Sarah closed her eyes and thanked God for giving her a new life.

  Charlie sat in total silence for a long time, as he closed the book. It was four o'clock in the morning, and he had been reading for hours. What an extraordinary human being she had been. What an incredible thing to do, to dare to leave her husband, at that time, and set sail for Boston, on a tiny ship, with neither companion nor friend to go with her. And from what he could gather from what she'd written, she knew no one at all in the new world. He couldn't even imagine the courage she had, or the life from which she'd fled. The stories she'd told of Edward made him shiver, and he wished that he could have reached out to her, or been there to help. He would have loved to know her, and to be her friend, even to be on the brig with her that left Falmouth for the new world.

  He closed the journal carefully, looking at it as the precious thing that it was. He felt as though he were sharing a remarkable secret, and as he went upstairs to her room, he longed to see her. He knew so much more about her now, knew who she was, where she had been. He could only imagine what the trip over on the ship had been like. He was tempted to stay up all night and read about it, but he knew he had to get some sleep before morning.

  He lay in bed that night, thinking about her, wishing he could hear her, and thinking of the incredible good luck that had brought him to the trunk. Or was it? Perhaps there had never been a chipmunk or a rat, perhaps she had wanted him to find her journals. Perhaps she had led him to them, but then as he thought about it, he smiled again, knowing that was impossible. Even for him, the idea that she had brought her journals to him was just too far-fetched for him to believe. But however he had come to them, he was infinitely glad he had. And all he wanted to do now was pick them up again.

  Chapter 10

  WHEN CHARLIE AWOKE the next morning, he wondered if it had all been a dream. It was cold outside, and it was still snowing. He wanted to fax some notes to his lawyer in London, and he should have made a couple of calls to New York. But all he wanted to do once he was up, and had taken a shower, and dressed, was grab a cup of coffee and read Sarah's journals for the rest of the morning. They were almost hypnotic in the rhythm with which she wrote, and he wanted to sit in one spot until he finished all of them, or at least the one he'd been reading.

  But finally, after he'd done a little bit of work, he let himself sit down in a comfortable chair he had bought, and start reading about her crossing on the ship. He felt like a kid with an enormous secret. He was going to share the journals with Gladys eventually, but not just yet. He wanted them to himself first. There was not a single sound in the house as he picked up the journal he had put down the night before, and started reading again.

  The Concord was a small brig that had been built five years before, it had two masts, and a square stern. There was a small section underneath them, between decks, and four cabins for a total of twelve people traveling to the new world. And as they set sail slowly from Falmouth, Sarah finally went downstairs to take a look at the cabin which she and Margaret had been meant to share. But nothing had prepared her for what she saw there. The cabin itself was about six feet long, and four across, and two excruciatingly narrow mattresses rested on two terrifyingly narrow wooden shelves, which were meant to be their beds. It didn't even bear thinking what they would have done, if either of them had been fat. The shelves would have collapsed. And just above the beds were two ropes that would be used to lash them into their beds in the event of storms on the Adantic.

  The others had all been told that they had to share their cabins, but as one of only two women on the ship, Sarah of course did not. The other woman was traveling with her husband, and their five-year-old little girl. The child's name was Hannah, and Sarah had already seen her on the deck. They were American, from the Northwest Territory in the Ohio region, she'd been told, and their name was Jordan. They'd been visiting Mrs. Jordan's family for the past several months, and were now on their way back home. Even to Sarah, it seemed brave of them to have come.

  Th
e rest of the people on the ship were all men, there were four merchants, a pharmacist who might prove useful, a minister going to work with the heathens in the West, and a French journalist who talked a lot about the American diplomat and inventor Ben Franklin, whom he said he had met five years before, in Paris. By the time they hit the first swells, almost all the passengers were feeling ill, and they could already barely see the coast of England. But Sarah was amazed at how alive she felt. She stood on deck as the sun came up, breathing in the air, enjoying her first taste of freedom. She felt as though she could have flown, she was so excited. And when she finally went belowdecks again, she ran into Martha Jordan just coming out of their cabin with Hannah. She wondered how three of them could sleep there.

  Good afternoon, miss, Martha Jordan said primly, lowering her eyes. She and her husband had both commented on how odd it was that Sarah was traveling without chaperone or escort. And just the way she looked at her made Sarah realize that she had to come up with an explanation for it. Not having Margaret with her was going to make things very awkward, particularly in Boston. She knew that even there a woman traveling alone would be considered most unseemly.

  Hello, Hannah, Sarah said gently, smiling at the little girl. She was plain but very sweet, she looked just like her mother, and they were both looking a little pale. Sarah wondered if they were seasick. Are you well?

  Not very, the little five-year-old said, and her mother looked up in spite of herself and both women curtsied.

  I'd be happy to have her stay with me anytime you and your husband want a little time together, Sarah said kindly. I have another bed in my cabin. I have no children of my own, unfortunately, but my late husband and I always hoped that we'd have them. She didn't mention the six that had died at birth and been stillborn. But what she had said had immediately caught the attention of Martha Jordan, which was what she had intended.

  You're a widow then? Martha Jordan said with visible approval. Then that explained it. She still should have had a maid or a female relative with her, but if she were a widow, it was much less shocking and could be explained.

  I am. Only recently. Sarah lowered her eyes demurely, and wished that it were true, but sadly, it wasn't. My niece was to have made the journey with me, she said, assuming Martha might have seen Margaret sobbing on the dock when she left her, but she was much too frightened. She'd have been hysterical all the way to Boston. I just couldn't bring myself to force her, although I promised my parents that I would take her with me. But it seemed too unkind to hold her to her agreement, though it's put me in a dreadful position, Sarah said, looking mortified, and Martha Jordan became instantly sympathetic.

  Oh, my dear, how terrible for you, particularly being a recent widow. And the poor thing hadn't even any children. She didn't know how old she was, but she thought her very beautiful, and guessed her correctly to be in her mid-twenties. If there's anything we can do for you, please let us know at once. Perhaps you'd like to visit us in Ohio. But Sarah didn't think so. She was determined to get to Boston.

  You're very kind, Sarah said as she thanked her, and then went into her cabin. She had worn a large black silk hat that tied under her chin, and a black wool gown, which corroborated her story. Though she didn't look like she had been grieving. Her eyes literally danced as they reached the high seas and England disappeared on the horizon.

  And for the first few days, the trip was quite peaceful. They had brought some pigs and some sheep with them, to slaughter and eat during the trip, and the cook seemed to be making an effort with their meals. But Sarah noticed that the crew were quite noisy at night, and Seth Jordan told her that they drank rum and got utterly drunk every evening. He had been very firm about suggesting that she and his wife should keep to their cabins after supper.

  Most of the merchants stood along the deck and chatted every day, and despite a little seasickness here and there, everyone appeared to be in good humor. Captain MacCormack chatted regularly with each of them, and he had told Sarah he was from Wales, and he didn't say anything to her, but he was overwhelmed by her beauty. He had a wife and ten children on the Isle of Wight, but he admitted to her wistfully that he rarely saw them. He hadn't been home in two years. And at times he found it hard to concentrate, whenever Sarah stood on the deck, looking far out to sea, or even when she sat quietly somewhere writing in her journal. She had the kind of rare looks that made men catch fire as they looked at her, and with each passing hour, they smoldered more. The captain was sure that she was unaware of her effect on all of them. There was a quiet strength and humility about her that only made her more attractive.

  They'd been at sea for nearly a week when they hit the first storm, and it was a beauty. Sarah had been asleep in her bunk when it hit, and one of the sailors walked into her room, and told her he had to lash her to the wall with the ropes that hung there for that purpose. And as she looked at him, she was very frightened. He had woken her from a sound sleep, and he reeked of rum, but his hands were gentle and sure as he tied the knots, and then hurried back on deck to the others. And as she listened, she could hear every inch of the small ship groan and strain beneath them.

  It was a long night for all of them, and all of the passengers were extremely ill from the constant rising and sinking of the ship, and she closed her eyes and prayed each time it shuddered and fell. None of them came out of their cabins for two days, some of them for considerably longer, and a week after the storm, Martha Jordan still hadn't emerged, and Sarah asked her husband how she was faring.

  She's never been very strong, he explained, she had the influenza last year, and it nearly killed her. She's been very seasick ever since the storm, he explained, looking vague and a little worried. He had his hands full with Hannah. And that afternoon, Sarah knocked on the cabin door and went in to see his wife. She was lying on her bunk, deathly pale, and there was a slop bucket just beneath her. It wasn't a pretty sight, and as soon as Sarah walked in the door, the poor woman began retching.

  Oh my dear, let me help you, Sarah said, genuinely concerned, it was obvious that the poor thing felt as though she were dying. Sarah held her head for her, and when Martha Jordan could speak again, Sarah learned that she was not just seasick, she was pregnant. But the happiest news for Sarah was that she had discovered only the day before that she wasn't. She was enormously relieved to realize that she would never again have any link to Edward. She was truly free now. And if he wanted an heir, he was going to have to find another female. But as she looked at the poor woman retching in her arms, Sarah knew that hers was an entirely difficult situation.

  We could have stayed in England with my family until the baby was born, Martha said unhappily, as she leaned against Sarah with her eyes closed. But Seth thought we should get back to Ohio, and then she started crying. It'll take weeks to get back there after we reach Boston. And even that was two months away, two months of rising and falling and swaying on the ship. Sarah couldn't imagine anything worse at this stage of her confinement, and she was more grateful than ever not to have to deal with it herself. Just knowing she had Edward's child in her would have driven her to distraction.

  But as she looked down at Martha in her distress, she turned her thoughts to what she could do to help her. First, she went to her cabin to get some lavender water she'd brought with her, and a clean cloth, and she bathed her forehead in the cool, scented water. But even that faint smell made her nauseous. Then she attempted to wash the woman's face and pull her hair back. She switched the slop bucket to an empty pail, and she promised to bring her back a cup of tea, if she could get someone in the galley to make one.

  Thank you, the poor woman whispered hoarsely, you can't imagine what this is like ' I was sick the entire time with Hannah ' But Sarah knew it all too well, and had done it far too often, which made her even more sympathetic to this woman. And mercifully, after a cup of tea, and some biscuits the cook provided for her, by late afternoon, she actually felt a little better and had stopped retching. Seth Jorda
n said Sarah was an angel of mercy, and thanked her profusely, and then she took Hannah with her, and played games with her for a little while. She was a sweet child, and all she wanted was to be with her mother. Sarah took her back to her mother after a little bit, but Martha was too ill to care for the child, she was vomiting again, and Hannah had to go back on deck with her father. He was talking to some of the men and they were smoking cigars one of them had bought in the West Indies. They were very fine ones, and the smell was so pungent even in the sea air that Sarah was tempted to try one, but she knew what a harlot the men would think her. She told Seth Jordan as delicately as possible how ill his wife was again, and he thanked her for doing what she could to help her.

  They enjoyed a few more calm days after that, and then hit another storm, and after that they didn't see good weather for two weeks, nor did they see many of the passengers out of their cabins. They had been on board for three and a half weeks by then, and the captain estimated they had done half the journey. Providing they didn't hit any really awful storms, it was going to take them a total of seven weeks to reach Boston. Despite the bad weather, Sarah walked around the deck at times, looking up at the sails and watching the crewmen. And she couldn't help wondering what Edward had thought of her disappearance. She wondered if he had figured it out by then, or if Margaret had told him where she'd gone, or if she'd kept her promise. But there was nothing he could do now. He couldn't force her to come back. He couldn't do anything. All he could do was hate her, and he had before anyway, so she saw virtually no difference.