My Lord Ghost

by Meredith Bond

  “No, Marcus, it’s not so! “

  “YOU CUT ME WORSE THAN THOSE BLASTED INDIANS EVER DID! YOU TORTURE ME, CAUSING ME TO FEEL THE PAIN OF MY PAST SO THAT YOU CAN ABANDON ME, TERRIFIED AND FORGOTTEN!”

  The wall shook even more forcefully with his screams, and then suddenly the bust of his brother fell, crashing to the ground and missing my head by mere inches. Plaster flew everywhere, hitting my legs like stinging nettles as the bust shattered into pieces at my feet.

  I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t think. I ran.

  My room was not entirely the safe haven I wished for though, as his screams continued to echo through the house.

  First thing the following morning, I wrote my father to tell him that I’d changed my mind. I didn’t know if it would be better to go to Pemberton for the remainder of the time before my debut, or if I should come directly to London and risk society’s wrath. Either, I felt, would be safer than staying here, though. I told my father that I’d be at Pemberton awaiting his reply.

  All of Mr. Collier’s warnings echoed in my head as I asked for the gig to be hitched to a work horse, so I could drive into town to take my letter directly to the inn to be posted.

  I had just turned off the drive into the main road, when I felt a slight wobble to the gig. I had never felt that before and I didn’t know what it was—until the wheel on the left-hand side of the gig gave out, and I found myself tumbling into a ditch!

  I lay there for a minute or so just to take a mental check of all of my limbs. Slowly, I moved them just a little and found that each one seemed just fine. Nothing was broken. I was covered with dirt and debris, but otherwise I was all right.

  The gig lay lopsidedly on its axle on the side of the road, and the pieces of the broken wheel I found next to me in the ditch.

  The horse had been startled, but he seemed to be all right as well, just awkwardly still half-hitched to the gig. I released him from what was left of the traces, and with a sigh, started trudging back to Marshfield.

  “Charlie!” I called as I entered the yard at the front of the house. The farmhand came running at my second call. I was too exhausted to go all the way to the stables.

  “Miss! What’s happened?” Mr. Barker had come out of the house at the sound of my voice as well.

  I handed off the horse to the groom and took a deep breath, feeling a little silly for causing such a commotion.

  “It’s nothing,” I told them. “The wheel broke. I’m afraid you’re going to have to go and get the gig. What is left of the wheel landed in the ditch along with me.”

  “My goodness, Miss!” Mr. Barker exclaimed with more emotion than I thought I’d ever heard from him.

  “It’s all right, Mr. Barker. I’m fine. Just a little shaken up. I’ll go change into my riding habit. Charlie, would you please see that my horse is saddled. I’ll ride into the village.”

  “Yes, Miss,” the young man said, running off to do as I had asked.

  Mr. Barker followed me into the house. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Miss?” he asked.

  “What? Oh yes, it’s fine,” I said, going up to my room to get changed.

  I’m happy to say that I arrived in the village without further mishap, just as I had expected. I dropped my letter off with Mr. White and then went down to the general store to see if they had any more paper, as I had used up the last of Lord Marcus’ fine linen stationery with my letter to my brother.

  “Heard you were speaking to Mr. Collier again, Miss Grace,” Mrs. Cooper said, as she pulled out the paper for me.

  “Yes,” I admitted. “He’s been dropping warnings in my ear ever since I arrived.” I didn’t mention that I was about to heed them, as I didn’t want to completely lose face in her eyes. She’d hear soon enough of my defection.

  “Always had a blind eye for his own, did Mr. Collier,” she said with a tsk of her tongue.

  A strange idea struck me. “You don’t know where Henry is now, do you? “

  “No. Don’t care to either. I imagine he’s off at his uncle’s estate.” She rolled the paper up for me so that I could carry it home easily.

  I bid her farewell and returned to the inn to collect my horse. I had just mounted her and turned her in the direction of Marshfield, when she suddenly started wheeling and kicking up her forelegs. Never had she done this before! I held on as best as I could, but I didn’t last long.

  I landed hard on my back in the inn yard and was about to roll over to get up, when I heard a shouted curse and then felt the ground shake with rearing horses. A hoof landed less than a foot away from my face!

  I screamed in terror and rolled in the opposite direction.

  A pair of strong hands pulled me to my feet and the head groom half dragged, half carried me to safety.

  I collapsed onto the bench just outside of the inn. Mr. White came running out, yelling at grooms to hold onto the horses—both mine and those of the carriage that nearly ran me over. It took a good five minutes for them to get the horses under control and calmed down enough for some order to be resumed.

  In the meantime, a gentleman came rushing over to me. “My God, are you all right?” he asked. He was nearly as shaken up as I was.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “I nearly ran you over! I can’t believe it. I’m normally considered a very fine driver, Miss. Please accept my utmost apologies. You are certain...”

  “Yes, it’s quite all right. No need to apologize. I don’t know why my horse suddenly threw me, but as soon as I catch my breath, I assure you I am going to find out.”

  “Oh no! Please, let me. I feel utterly indebted to you for your kind understanding.” With that, he bowed and strode off to the stables where the grooms had taken my horse.

  Mr. White came out of the inn once more and pressed a cup of tea into my hand. “Drink that, Miss, it’ll make you feel better.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mr. White. That is very kind.” I took a sip and nearly choked. He had laced it with whiskey!

  He gave a little laugh and said, “You drink that up, and you’ll feel better in a trice.”

  “I’ll be too bosky to ride home!” I protested, handing the cup back to him.

  “You don’t intend to ride that horse of yours back to Marshfield? “

  “How else shall I get there? “

  “I’ll send a groom to fetch Charlie and he’ll bring...”

  “The wheel on the gig already broke today,” I interrupted. That stopped him. “It’s all right, Mr. White. There must have been some reason for my horse to behave so erratically. She is usually the most even tempered of creatures.”

  And indeed a few minutes later, the gentleman who had been driving the other carriage came back to report that burrs had been found under my horse’s saddle blanket.

  “They had removed the saddle and blanket to brush her in order to help calm her down and found a whole handful of them,” he exclaimed.

  “But who would have put them there? “ I asked.

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” the gentleman answered.

  “I want to know how they could have been put there,” Mr. White said. “They surely weren’t there when you rode in an hour ago.”

  “No, they weren’t,” I agreed.

  “And your horse was in my stable the entire time you were gone. I’ll see to those stable boys of mine,” he said, striding off angrily.

  I got up and ran after him, “Oh, Mr. White, please...”

  But he was already yelling at the boys at the top of his lungs by the time I caught up with him. The boys all denied seeing anyone go near my horse, except to rub her down after I had come in. They had taken off her saddle and then put it back on not ten minutes before I left. None of them could figure out how those burrs had gotten under the blanket. No one had even been seen near the stables except for the boys who worked there.

  I thanked them all for the care they had taken and absolved them of any culpability. There was not only no way for any of them to have done thi
s, but no reason either.

  Unfortunately, I had a very good idea who had done it. The only one who was capable of it—Marcus! I hated to think that he would do such a thing, but who else was so angry with me that he wanted to see me hurt? Maybe, I reasoned, he thought if I got hurt, I wouldn’t be able to leave Marshfield.

  It disturbed me to even have these thoughts, but there truly could be no other explanation for either of my accidents today. And come to think of it, there had actually been three accidents, if one included the bust falling to the ground next to me the previous night. Three—what a very unlucky number!

  I resolved to leave Marshfield first thing the following morning.

  I was so upset that I couldn’t eat anything for dinner that evening. And attempting to read afterward was completely fruitless.

  Instead, I spent two hours re-packing my trunk and seeing to everything that I could think of that might need my attention over the next few days. It turned out to be rather late in the evening when I finally began to get ready for bed.

  I was staring morosely out of the window as I took down my hair and began to brush it out. I would miss Marshfield terribly. It had truly become home to me. Somehow, in the short time I’d been here, I’d grown very fond of this place and its inhabitants. Even Mr. Hancock had grown used to my meddling and was now kind to me.

  I stopped brushing my hair. There was an odd glow coming from behind the garden wall.

  Could that be Marcus? I watched as it turned and disappeared into the woods. Without waiting a moment, I threw my dress back on, slipped into my shoes, and ran out into the night after the glow. I ran through the garden as quickly as I could, trying to remember all of the turns and twists of the path as it led to the back gate.

  The moon was out, but it was only a half moon and kept slipping behind the clouds intermittently. I ran through the gate and then pulled up short at the entrance to the path in the woods. I hadn’t really explored these woods very fully yet and didn’t know my way. But still, if Marcus had come this way then so would I. I had to find out what he was up to.

  Hesitantly, I stepped into the darkness of the woods. There was a loud crack as I stepped on a stick but I kept going. I wished that I had brought a lantern! I stumbled along, jumping at every noise I heard. I never realized just how much noise there was in a wood at night. All around me, I heard scurrying little feet. An owl hooted somewhere off to my right, and I could have sworn I heard a wolf, or perhaps a dog of some sort howling.

  Never had I been so scared—except perhaps the night before when Marcus had gotten angry. Well, at least then I knew who, or what, I needed to be afraid of. Here, what I couldn’t see was what scared me the most.

  I stopped, took a deep breath, firmly pushing my fears down. I had to keep going, and I had to do so as quickly as possible. This was no time to panic, I sternly told myself. I managed to pull myself together just in time to step out into the church graveyard.

  Moving away from the woods, I was greeted by the eerie silence of the dead. The moon shone overhead, casting a glow on the headstones as I looked around for Marcus. I swallowed hard. What an appropriate place for a ghost to come, I thought.

  Could he be seeking out his own grave? What a morbid thought! And then the moon disappeared behind a cloud, and I was left in utter darkness.

  “Marcus?” I called out quietly. I didn’t know why I kept my voice quiet. There was no one else there. I cleared my throat and called out again, this time a little more loudly. I caught a glimpse of the glowing light once again off to the left and immediately headed in that direction.

  I walked then half ran toward the glow. One odd step and instead of my foot coming down on solid ground, there was nothing. I found myself falling. Until finally, ooof!

  Every bone in my body hurt. I had fallen more times in this one day than ever in my life. It’s amazing I hadn’t broken any bones as yet—at least, I didn’t think so. I couldn’t move for a good few minutes while I caught my breath and took stock. My hands were scraped, and my arms hurt since I had partially caught myself with them. I groaned and tried my best not to cry.

  I turned over and came in direct contact with what seemed to be a wall of dirt. So I turned the other way and encountered the same thing.

  Oh, dear God! I had fallen into a grave!

  To hell with being brave. I did begin to cry, in truth! When I finally got a hold of myself, I was extremely grateful that from what I could tell, it was an empty grave. But I forgot all about that when I heard a noise above me.

  “Marcus!” I shouted. “Marcus, help!”

  “Laia? Laia, where are you?” His most reassuring voice came from above me.

  “I’m here in this grave, oh please send somebody…” I screamed. I couldn’t help it.

  For a moment, I saw a man looming over the grave. The pale moon was behind him so all I could see was his outline—and then he was falling down on top of me. I covered my face with my hands as he fell, and thank goodness, he caught himself with his hands on either side of me. But still, it felt as if at least 180 pounds of pure man fell on top of me.

  If I had hurt before, it was nothing to what I felt now. I think I had begun to whimper again; I was in such pain. My intense fear of being in a grave didn’t help either.

  “Oh, Laia, I am so sorry,” a voice whispered in my ear. He groaned for a moment and tried to move off of me.

  How could that be? I knew that groan. That was Marcus’ groan. But it came from this man—this very real, very alive man!

  “Marcus?” I asked, adding a sudden, pounding fury to my many complaints.

  “Yes, it’s me,” he said quietly. He then let out an expletive, which I daren’t repeat.

  “How…” I started.

  “Listen, I’d love to explain everything to you, but I think someone is trying to bury us alive. Don’t move.” He shifted off me, moving down toward my feet. And indeed, as soon as he did, a large amount of dirt fell directly onto my chest and sprayed into my face.

  Marcus stood up and grabbed the shovel from the hands of whoever was wielding it. He threw it off to the side and then put his hands up onto the ground at the edge of the grave and pulled himself out.

  My goodness, he must be tall, I thought. Well over six feet, anyway.

  All I heard for some time was the sound of two men fighting. There were “oofs” as punches were thrown and received. There were groans and cries as each man must have tried to pummel the other.

  Hardly a thought went through my head that wasn’t “Marcus is alive!” I did manage, however, to slowly remove myself because no matter how much shock I’d been through that day, I just could not stay lying at the bottom of a grave.

  Each movement caused such a degree of pain, you can’t imagine. My entire body felt smashed into again and again. Oh, but it had been, all day.

  By the time I got myself standing, I heard one last cry then the sound of a man falling to the ground.

  There was silence. I prayed that the man who had fallen wasn’t Marcus. I couldn’t bear the thought that I’d found him and then lost him again so quickly.

  That prayer was answered a moment later when I saw the same man’s outline once again at the edge of the grave, and Marcus reached down his hands and said, “It’s all right now, Laia. Let me help you out.”

  I reached up my arms, and he lifted me out as if I weighed nothing. I could hardly believe it when my legs actually held me up. I was certain they would collapse under me. However, they did their job just barely, and Marcus helped by putting his arm around me.

  I couldn’t help myself, I put my hand on his chest—his very solid, breathing chest—and just stood there for a moment feeling it rise and fall.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, concern filling his voice. “I’d offer to carry you, but…”

  “No. It’s fine. I just… I just wanted to feel you breathe.” I paused, still amazed. “You’re alive!”

  He chuckled and put his warm hand over mine, st
ill resting on him. “I am. I am very much alive.”

  “But… how?”

  “Let’s go back to the house, and I promise to tell you everything.”

  I gave a nod, but paused staring at the still shape of a man lying on the ground. “Shouldn’t we inform Mr. Samuelson, the magistrate?” I asked.

  “The vicar can clean up this mess. Come.”

  Gently, he guided me around the body. I didn’t know quite what he meant, but since the vicarage was close by, I figured he was right. I didn’t know who the man was or if he was dead or alive. Frankly, I didn’t want to know.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I collapsed, groaning, into a kitchen chair as soon as we walked in the door.

  “Where are you hurt?” Marcus asked, kneeling on the floor next to me. His face was pale in the dim light from the embers of the kitchen fire, but I just stared at him for a good minute. It was as if the portrait I’d been looking at for the past few weeks had come to life. No, that wasn’t true, I corrected myself. He was thinner than the man in the picture. Thinner, paler, and there were lines etched into his forehead. He was definitely not the carefree, handsome young man who had been painted. He had clearly seen a great deal more than that man ever had. But still, it was my Marcus sitting right next to me, looking at me as deeply as I was looking at him.

  He reached up and stroked my cheek, a slow smile growing on his face. “You are so beautiful. It’s wonderful to see you.”

  A thought struck me. “Have you seen me before? While we were talking? Could you see me?”

  He shook his head. “No. I couldn’t see you then, but I snuck out soon after you came to Marshfield just to see what you looked like. And then I kept doing so because you were so lovely I could hardly stop myself from coming for a quick look every so often.”

  I smiled, giggling. How could this be real? How could my ghost be alive? Not only alive but handsome, sweet, and funny! “You’re sure I’m not dreaming?”

  “Shall I pinch you?” he laughed.

  “Oh no! I already hurt.”