Ghost of the Thames

by May McGoldrick

  “This is not because of me falling off a horse, is it?”

  “We know what happened. You were fired upon by a band of villains,” Mrs. Perkins reminded her sternly. “We heard all about it. Four men made an orchestrated attempt on your life. I do not believe I have ever seen the master as angry as he was when he left a few minutes ago.”

  Sophy stared down at the tray as the housekeeper arranged it on her lap. A small vase of flowers. Linen napkin. The thoughtfulness in bringing this up for her was touching. At the same time, there were people out there who wished her dead. She tried to remember the faces of those she had seen. None had looked familiar.

  “Eat some of the soup or drink the tea if you can, Miss Sophy, before they get cold. I don’t care what the doctor says. You look too pale to me.”

  Sophy sipped the tea. It tasted heavenly. She looked up into the woman’s kind face and knew her concern was genuine. The older woman sat on the edge of the bed. The shades of gray woven into the tightly pulled black hair and the wrinkles touching the corners of intelligent eyes were a reminder of someone else she knew. A woman who was more a mother than a servant. Priya.

  “There is no formality necessary,” Sophy said softly. “You don’t need to pretend that you don’t know who I am. I am the same tattered creature who showed up at your back step not even a month ago.”

  Thin, aged fingers slipped into Sophy’s hand, and she squeezed it gently before letting go. “I know, my dear. But I also know that Captain Seymour almost killed you with his carriage the first night. And I have been told of everything else that has been discovered of your past since that night. Any blind person could see your quality through the rags. I knew you were from gentlefolk then, and I know it now. Nothing has changed.”

  Sophy blinked back tears. The medicine was starting to take effect and her emotions were raw. The continuous kindness she received because of Edward’s efforts was overwhelming.

  “Captain Seymour’s generosity astounds me. I don’t believe there ever was or there will ever be another person as fine and good as he.”

  “Tell him that, my dear,” the housekeeper encouraged. “After all the sadness and disappointment he has gone through in the recent months, he needs to know that he is making a difference.”

  Sophy tried to move the tray, but her arms suddenly lacked the strength.

  “Would you be so kind as to take this?” She watched the older woman put the tray on the side table. “What do you mean sadness and disappointment?”

  “Oh, he has not told you of his niece Amelia?” She turned, a look of surprise on her face.

  “No, he hasn’t.”

  “Well, I think it would be best for you to know.” Mrs. Perkins sat back down on the edge of the bed and sighed deeply. “Amelia Ann Franklin is his niece. A lovely, spirited girl. Sixteen years old. I’ve raised her just as I raised Edward and his sister Sarah Ann.”

  The housekeeper’s voice wavered. A dark cloud descended over her features. She took a handkerchief out of one pocket as if preparing for the wave of emotions that were sure to follow.

  “The dear child lost her father, a Navy man like the rest of them. A commander he was. She was only ten, poor thing. And then, even worse for all of us, three years later, her mother Sarah died, too.” Mrs. Perkins paused a moment, dabbing at her eyes. “She was left as Edward’s ward. Miss Sarah knew she’d be better off with us than with the Admiral, Amelia’s grandfather. He’s stationed on the other side of the world somewhere.”

  “But where is Amelia? What has become of her?”

  “The girl has disappeared. Three months ago, she walked out the front door of this very house in the company of a midshipman named Henry Robinson. How we were fooled by such a seemingly fine lad, I’ll never know. But that was the last we’ve seen of her. Almost three months without so much as a note or anything. Not a sign of them anywhere since.”

  “They eloped?”

  “A person who didn’t know her might well assume that to be the case. In a way, we all wish that it is so, for any news of her would be better than none at all.”

  The older woman sat there silently for a while, staring across the room before saying more.

  “As fortune would have it, the Captain’s ship was only a day out of Portsmouth. He arrived to our terrible news. And he has done everything that could possibly be done. Going up and down the coast, questioning everyone Henry could have ever known, his family, his friends. He has established a sizable reward, interviewing one and all who have come forward with any news. All to no avail. The night he found you in his path, he was coming back from one of those wild goose chases.”

  Sophy wondered if that was also the case the night he had saved her behind the tavern in Hammersmith Village. She recalled that he’d refused to explain why he was there, but how stern he was in his lecture of the dangers she was bringing upon herself.

  “An angel of a child, no one ever imagined such a thing could be possible. And we all carry our guilt for what we should have done to prevent her going. And right or wrong, the Captain is the most troubled, as he was at sea when it happened.”

  “Amelia,” Sophy whispered the name. She realized she was having trouble focusing. “How much I should like to meet Amelia.”

  The housekeeper leaned forward, gently tucking the covers under her chin. “I can see the medicine is working. Sleep, child.”

  How strange Fate could be? Edward was out searching for a lost niece, and Sophy—lost to the world—was rescued by him. Fate.

  It was not Fate. Her own words came back to her.

  It was not Fate that brought them together.

  *

  “Hire whom you must and pay whatever they ask,” Edward ordered Reeves. “I want Miss Sophy to be guarded at all times.”

  It was near midnight when he returned to Berkeley Square. At least for the next few days, police officers would be a visible presence on the street around the clock, but that was far from enough.

  “I will make the arrangements, Captain. But it will be more difficult to control the situation when she moves back to her lodgings in Soho.”

  “She will remain here in the guest bedroom indefinitely,” Edward told him. “Polite society and correctness be damned.”

  Edward walked around the house, inspecting each room and every possible entry point into the house. The older man followed on his heels.

  “The Admiral will approve of the match.”

  Edward glanced at his man suspiciously. “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, if I may, Captain. After your distinguished career in the Royal Navy, marrying the heiress to Warren Shipping makes perfect sense.”

  “Keep your voice down, you old buzzard. What I have told you about her identity must remain a secret until the time is right. You haven’t been sharing it, have you?”

  “I have Captain.”

  Edward smiled and shook his head, moving toward the stairs. “So who have you been chattering with?”

  “Well, Mrs. Perkins.”

  “Naturally.” There was nothing that one knew and the other didn’t.

  The butler coughed quietly and didn’t say anything more.

  Climbing the steps two at a time, Edward’s thoughts returned to what they had been able to discover so far. One person had been apprehended by a policeman who had heard the shot from the South Carriage Drive. He had tackled the man before he’d been able to get out of the park. With some persuasion and the assurance he would be hanging alone for the “murder” of Sophy, he’d given up the names of the other three. But that was the extent of what they had been able to determine. Edward could not get the attacker to identify who had hired them.

  The guestroom Mrs. Perkins had chosen for Sophy was across the hallway from Amelia’s. An oil lamp had been left burning on a table. Edward paused and glanced at the closed door of his niece’s room before turning and knocking softly.

  It took a moment before the sleepy-eyed housekeeper opened the door.
<
br />   “How is she?” Edward asked from the doorway, looking into the room.

  “I think the doctor might have given her a bit too much medicine. She hasn’t moved a muscle since she fell asleep. No tossing or turning. Nothing.”

  The chivalrous act would have been to get the housekeeper to set up shifts of servants to stay with Sophy and then to retire to his own bedchamber. But as Edward said to Reeves downstairs, he was past caring about gossip and reputation.

  “You can go and get some sleep. I’ll sit with her.”

  Mrs. Perkins nodded and stepped out into the hallway. Before leaving, she touched Edward affectionately on the arm. “She is a gem, Master Edward. It will be my honor to care for her.”

  “Get some sleep, Mrs. Perkins. Tomorrow will be a full day, I’m sure.”

  He watched the housekeeper disappear along the hallway toward the back of the house and then closed the bedroom door.

  Sophy looked so small in the bed. He sat on the edge and pushed the covers away from her face. With her brown curls spread on the pillow and her porcelain skin golden in the light of the flickering embers of coal in the fireplace, she looked like an angel.

  She turned her face slightly in her sleep, and he saw the scratches by her hairline. There were more of them, he knew, on her arms and back and legs.

  The horror of the afternoon came quickly back to him. The feeling of helplessness. Watching the villain raise his pistol and not being able to do anything about it. And then the chase and her fall into the iron fence. The moments when he’d held her in his arms, waiting for her eyes to open, were the longest and most painful in his life.

  “Never do that to me again,” he whispered, leaning down and kissing her lips.

  She rolled toward him when he drew back. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, and she smiled, seeing him. She took his hand and brought it to her lips. But the drugs were stronger than her will to stay awake. Her eyes drifted shut.

  “I love you, Edward.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Come. You must come with me now.

  The battle raged inside Sophy. Her spirit was pulled between the comfort of Edward’s strong arms holding her protectively and the tug of a persistent ghost who would not leave her alone.

  Now is the time.

  She sank deeper into the warmth of the embrace and kept her eyes tightly shut. Edward’s soft breath caressed her ear. She held on to his arm, hoping he could save her from the phantom.

  Come with me tonight and you will understand.

  That was not enough, Sophy answered in her sleep. Riddles and puzzles would not lure her from this embrace. Not after what she had gone through. Not after the dangers she had exposed Edward to.

  Sophy burrowed deeper beneath the covers and tried to shut her mind against the voice.

  The icy chill swept through with the speed of lightning, but none of the heat. Her mind filled instantly with images of headstones and graves.

  She was standing in the middle of a foul and dismal place. A cemetery. Fog and mist enveloped her. The reek of death and decaying flesh assaulted her senses. She staggered a little, almost tumbling into an open pit. Yawning graves containing scores of bodies, filled nearly to the surface, spread out around her.

  She could hear the low cries of women. Near a gate, a cart was pushed into the yard by faceless men. Corpses were heaped up, spilling over the tops of wooden slats. They stopped by a grave near Sophy, and the cart tipped. Bodies of women rolled down into the pit.

  Some appeared to be dead, but others were not. She stared at the living women—maimed, sick, young, old, thin, ragged—but clearly not ready to meet their Maker. And yet, they were all treated the same, left to rot in the same hole.

  Silently, the men backed the cart toward the gate and then disappeared into the fog.

  Sophy bent by the grave. Dropping onto her hands and knees, she reached in, trying to save those who were still alive. At the far end of the pit, a body stirred, pushing upward through the corpses. As Sophy stared, the body began to glow. And then she recognized her. It was her ghostly guide. Her friend.

  I need you to save me. To let him know.

  In terror, Sophy’s eyes remained riveted on the apparition.

  The graveyard disappeared. She was looking at the wavering glow of the image hovering near the foot of her bed. She no longer hesitated. Pushing back the bedclothes, Sophy quietly slid out of bed.

  Follow me.

  *

  Edward sat up and watched Sophy walk toward the door as if in a trance. He had seen her behave this way before, the evening that she led him back to the warehouse on the Isle of Dogs. But there was a difference. There had been a sense of urgency in those other occasions. Now, however, she moved with a composure that made the hackles rise on his neck. It was as if she was absent. As if someone else had taken over her body.

  The noise of him rising from the bed didn’t attract her attention. He’d only discarded his coat and tie and boots to get in the bed with her earlier. Now, as she opened the door, he wondered how far she planned to go, dressed as she was only in a thin robe.

  He quickly pulled his boots on and followed her into the hall. When he reached the door, he was surprised to see Sophy standing in front of Amelia’s bedroom. She never turned, never looked around to see if she was alone. Her entire focus was directed on the door, as if she could will herself to walk through it.

  The oil lamp was still burning in the hall. He considered calling her name, but he stopped himself when she reached for the handle and pushed the door open. She went in and he followed.

  Standing in the doorway, Edward’s throat tightened as he looked around the room. From the lamp in the hall and the light of a gas lamp from the street, he could see it had been kept exactly as Amelia had left it.

  This had been his sister Sarah’s room when they were young. Her portrait hung over the fireplace mantel. It was a reminder of how alike in looks the mother and daughter were. Edward had been avoiding coming here. He didn’t care to look on his sister’s face when he’d failed her in his promise.

  The light from the hall cast a soft flickering glow on Sophy as she stood before the fireplace, staring up at Sarah’s portrait. He’d never told her anything of his sister or Amelia.

  Suddenly, Sophy reached out and pressed her fingers against the ornamental molding on the fireplace mantel. To his surprise, a small door popped open in the ornate paneling. He had lived in this house for most of his life, and Edward never knew of any secret compartment. But he also had no idea how someone who had never been in this room could know exactly where that panel was and how to open it.

  She reached inside and took out a wooden box.

  Sophy did not turn around when she spoke. “She wants me to show this to you.”

  She had not looked at his direction since entering the room, but she clearly knew that he was there with her.

  “Show me what?” he asked, coming closer.

  She turned around. Edward looked up into her face, and there was no longer a statue staring at him. Sophy had returned. There were tears on her cheeks as she held out the box to him.

  “She says she wants you to look inside the box.”

  “What are you talking about, Sophy? Who wants me to look inside?” He couldn’t mask the hardness that was creeping into his voice or the anguish that was gripping his heart.

  “Please, Edward,” she whispered.

  He took the box and opened it roughly. Holding it to the light, he stared at a jeweled cross that had been in the Seymour family for generations, passed on from mother to the eldest daughter. A bracelet that had been a wedding gift from Sarah’s husband. A locket. There were other pieces of jewelry in the box, as well, favorite pieces that his sister had loved and cherished . . . and given to Amelia. He took out a lock of her hair that Amelia had insisted on keeping after her mother’s death. These were precious possessions that Edward knew his niece kept. They were all there in the box.

  Edward found his
vision blurring as he looked up again at Sophy. He steeled himself against his emotions.

  “What is this?” he snapped. “How did you know about these things? About this box?”

  “She wants you to know that she would not have run away without them.”

  He slammed the box on the mantle and turned threateningly toward her. “What do you mean? Who wants me to know?”

  Sophy held her ground. Her chin high, her eyes shining with tears, she looked up at him. “Amelia. Your niece. She asked me to show you these.”

  “Where is she?” He took her by shoulders and shook her once. “How do you know her?”

  “She is the one who saved me from the river. She is the one who put me in the path of your carriage.”

  “You are talking nonsense.”

  Sophy shook her head. “I see her. She is the one who comes to me . . . as a spirit.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Sophy!”

  “I am not lying to you.” Tears were rolling down her cheeks. “I never made the connection until tonight. She brought me here. She showed me where the secret hiding place was and how to open it. You tell me how could I have known where to look? Please, I’m telling you the truth.”

  “This is preposterous.” His hands dropped from her shoulders. “You have taken this game too far. You are talking about my niece. A child who is out there and who is going to come back to us.”

  She stepped back. Her words came out as a sob. “You are right. Only madness can make me imagine all of this.”

  Sophy went around him and ran from the room.

  Anger burned in him. He kicked a nearby table and sent it crashing against the wall. He didn’t believe her. She was talking nonsense. She had taken too many blows to the head.

  She must have met Amelia on one of those bizarre jaunts through London. Or she knew someone who knew Amelia.