My Lord Ghost

by Meredith Bond

  The smile slipped off his face, replaced by a look of true concern. “Where?”

  “Everywhere, I think. And I lost one of my shoes somewhere along the way.” I reached down and rubbed my aching foot.

  “Oh, you poor thing,” Marcus said, brushing my hand away and rubbing my foot himself.

  That felt so good, I think I started purring!

  Marcus laughed but continued to do it, much to my great pleasure. He stopped sooner than I would have liked to light a few candles and stoke up the fire.

  With a sigh, I pushed myself out of my chair and filled the kettle with water, before putting it over the now roaring fire.

  I turned back to find him poking around in the larder. He came back with a big grin on his face and a plate with leftover roast beef, potatoes, and some little cakes.

  “Mrs. Barker always leaves me something to eat,” he explained. “Would you care for some?”

  “No, thank you.” I laughed but then stole one of his cakes. I set it in front of me and waited for the tea.

  Marcus dug in as if he hadn’t eaten in a week. I couldn’t help but stare at him as he ate. I could hardly look away. Despite the grass in his hair, a bit of blood under his nose, the black eye that was beginning to swell, and the fact that he needed a shave, he was the most incredible thing I’d ever seen. My heart was so filled with joy and amazement it practically ached. I wanted to laugh and cry at once. I wanted this night to never end.

  I itched to wipe away the blood or put some meat to his eye, but I didn’t want to disturb his eating. Instead I got up to make the tea, but I was barely able to turn my back on Marcus. I was almost afraid that if I did, he would disappear into thin air, and I would find that this had all been some kind of strange dream. I couldn’t decide if it was a good dream or not.

  Certainly my little adventure into the graveyard could be considered a nightmare, but then discovering Marcus ...well, that was a dream come true.

  I put a cup of tea in front of him, and he looked up at me and smiled gratefully.

  He sat back and wiped his mouth on the napkin, which had been covering his dinner. “I beg your pardon, you must think me an absolute oaf!”

  “Oh no! Well, not entirely,” I admitted.

  He laughed. “It’s just that this is the only meal I eat all day, and I’m afraid I’m quite ravenous.”

  I shook my head. “How can you do that? How have you been... Where have you been? I don’t…” I was so confused, my words got completely tangled up.

  But Marcus just laughed. “This house is filled with secret passages and stairways. There’s a priest hole upstairs in the gallery. It’s been my room for the past five months.”

  “Oh!”

  “I sleep most of the day, and at night I come here, eat, and bathe. Mrs. Barker leaves me fresh clothes as well as my food.” He nodded toward a neatly folded pile of clothes that I hadn’t noticed before, sitting at the end of the other worktable against the far wall.

  “But why? Why have you been living like this?”

  “You mean why have I been haunting my own house?” he asked, beginning to eat again, only this time more slowly.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, to tell you that, I suppose I should tell you the rest of my story.”

  “Yes, please do,” I said eagerly, sitting forward.

  He put down his fork for a moment. “If I do, will you promise not to leave tomorrow?”

  I gave a little embarrassed laugh. “I don’t think I could if I wanted to.”

  He reached out and took my hand. “I don’t want you to.”

  I intertwined my fingers with his and lowered my gaze to blink away the happy tears that filled my eyes. “Then I won’t.”

  “Good.” He unlaced our hands, took a sip of his tea, and then sat back, remembering. He ran a hand through his hair, releasing some of the grass. “Where did I leave off? On our way back to Boston, right?”

  I took a deep breath and readied myself to hear what I knew would be the painful end of his story. “Yes, you’d found out that Peter had had no difficulty in getting help from the commander at Fort Shelby to come rescue you.”

  He gave a sad shake of his head. “Yes. I’m afraid it quite devastated Peter when it sunk in that not only had Henry abandoned him to the Native Americans, but he hadn’t made any effort at all to get him free.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, reaching out and doing what I had been longing to do for weeks. I touched his arm. It felt so good to have a real, live man to touch. His arm was warm, his hair coarse to my touch. He placed his much larger hand over mine and then got lost in his story.

  Peter didn’t do very well after that.

  He shivered constantly, despite the warm clothing we had shared between the three of us. He became pale and slept a good deal, riding in the back of the wagon. His eyes, which had been bright and clear after his rescue, became sunken and dull. They were like what I imagined a man’s eyes would look like as he was about to meet the hangman, only his were the eyes of the betrayed. It quite broke my heart to see him thus.

  “He’ll come out of it,” Robert assured me. “Just give him time.”

  And so we did.

  It took us three weeks to travel back to Boston. We were in luck when we arrived and only had to wait another week before the first ship set sail for England. I secured a cabin for us to share and then spent my days wandering the streets of the city, while Peter lay in bed with a fever.

  Anne, Robert’s wife, was wonderful. She cared for him herself, ladling soup down his throat, keeping him bundled against the chills that assailed him, and dampening the fire when he burned with fever.

  I continued the nursing of him on board the ship and slowly he got better—physically, at least. He never really regained his old temperament. He just seemed to huddle within himself.

  I didn’t think too much of it, other than the obvious reaction to having been held prisoner for four months. I was feeling quite the same way, although I expect to a lesser degree.

  We were very nearly home when a huge storm blew up off the coast of Ireland. One moment we were watching yet another magnificent sunset over the ocean; the next, storm clouds blew in from the north and we were tossed about like a toy ship in a very deep pool. Between the rain, wind, and the waves, a number of people were pulled overboard.

  There was a horrid crash that threw the rest of us to the deck.

  “Rocks!” was the shout from the upper deck. “We’ve hit the rocks! Abandon ship! Abandon ship!” The cry went up and was repeated throughout the vessel.

  There was a large family aboard. They filled the one lifeboat, which was cast off just as the entire ship began to list.

  Never in my life did I realize the speed with which a ship could sink. We scrambled on the deck for some sort of purchase, but the entire bow of the ship pitched down into the water. We all went flying into the freezing, churning ocean.

  I got a glimpse of Peter, who had always been a strong swimmer, helping someone hold on to something floating in the water. He was just by the side of the ship when the entire thing capsized with a huge crash like thunder. The masts, everything fell into the water, creating a huge wave that threw me tumbling backward until I came up against the same shelf of rocks that must have taken down the ship. I was able to scramble up and pull a few people up with me. We waited out the night and the storm huddled together for warmth.

  The morning brought sunshine and help, but there was no sign of Peter. I asked everyone, but no one had seen him.

  He paused, running his hands through his hair once again. “I searched those rocks, that shoreline, up and down miles in either direction for two weeks before the innkeeper providing me with hospitality told me that it was a fruitless search. If he hadn’t been found already, there was almost no chance that he would be now. I had no choice but to give up.”

  “Oh Marcus, I’m so sorry.”

  He couldn’t even look at me. He merely raised his eyes to the cei
ling and cried out, “I KILLED MY BROTHER!” His fists ground themselves against his forehead in anguish.

  “No!” I shouted, jumping up and running around to his side of the table. I grabbed his face between my hands and forced him to look at me. “You did not kill your brother. That ship, the storm, that shipwreck killed your brother. You are not responsible.”

  He buried his face against my body and wept.

  Never have I been held with such desperation. Tears streamed down my own face, but I held on to him for all that I was worth. After a few minutes, he turned his head to the side so he could speak clearly, but he didn’t let go.

  It took me two weeks to get home. Just as I was coming up the drive, I heard horses thundering from behind me. I panicked, thinking it was the Indians coming to get me again. I ran to a hidden entrance to the house at the edge of the garden. There’s a tunnel there that leads into the basement. My first thought as sanity returned, and I realized that I was safe, was for Rachel. Wouldn’t she be surprised to see me?

  I wanted to clean up as quickly as I could—I dare not soil her with my filth. I was already pulling off my clothes when I saw it. A small note pinned to my pillow.

  I froze.

  I knew that handwriting so well. Those neat loops and swirls could only have belonged to my beloved. My throat was so dry, I could barely swallow. I picked up the missive.

  My screaming when I read what she’d written probably woke the whole house, but I didn’t care. She was gone.

  Rachel had left me.

  She’d gone off to France with Henry. Henry! The man who had the chance to save my brother and threw it away in order to save his own hide. The man whose return without Peter killed my mother. The man at whose door I can blame nearly every misfortune…

  People were coming. I could hear them talking, hear their footsteps. I panicked again and bolted into the secret passageway.

  “I haven’t come out except for a short time each evening to eat and bathe.” He paused and turned to look up at me. “And then an angel came into my life.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “You’ve stayed inside the walls this entire time? Allowing everyone to think you dead?” I asked, still incredulous.

  He shook his head. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t face anyone. Not after all that I’d done; after all that I’d experienced. I was still healing. I am still healing,” he corrected himself.

  “And you’ve not spoken to anyone? Surely, you’ve spoken with Mrs. Barker,” I started.

  He shook his head again.

  “But then how did she know to leave food out for you?” I asked.

  With a sigh, he sat back. “She must have known when I started stealing food from the larder. And then the nightmares came, and I couldn’t help but cry out.” He gave a little reminiscent smile. “She came up to the gallery one night and tried coaxing me out with sweets, as she had when I was a little boy. When I stayed silent, she gave up but told me that food would be in the kitchen for me each night. A few days after that, she started leaving clothes for me, as well.”

  “But she hasn’t seen you or spoken to you?”

  “No. No one has—until you came.”

  “I was the first one to try and speak to you?” I asked, incredulous that no one would have even tried.

  Marcus just shook his head and took his last bite of cake. Mine was still sitting on the table, untouched.

  “What made you come out tonight?” I asked.

  “I was worried about you.” He drained his cup of tea. “I heard about both of your accidents today and knew that they couldn’t just be coincidences. I was going to come to your room through the passages and warn you, but just as I got there, I heard your door close. After a minute or so, I stepped out of the passage and saw you through the window, running through the garden toward the woods. “

  “So you followed me?”

  “Yes. After I reached the graveyard, I heard you calling for me. I could see in the moonlight that there was a freshly dug grave and had just peered in to see you there, when someone pushed me from behind.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m, er, terribly sorry I fell right on top of you.”

  I gave a little laugh. “That’s all right. You couldn’t help it, I suppose.”

  “No, I couldn’t.” He gave me a sheepish smile.

  “Do you know who it was... who you fought?”

  He lost his smile and nodded. “It was Henry.”

  I gasped. “But didn’t you say that he had run off to France with your wife?”

  “Yes. At least, that’s what her note said. I can’t tell you what he was doing here.” He paused. “Or why he’s been trying to kill you today.”

  I gasped. “What? You think it was Henry who was trying to kill me?”

  Marcus gave a shrug of his broad shoulders. “It’s the only logical explanation I can find for everything that happened to you today. Think about it, Laia, wasn’t that carriage wheel breaking, and what was it, burrs under your horse’s saddle just a little too convenient?”

  “You forgot the plaster bust falling and nearly hitting me last night,” I added dryly.

  “Oh, well, that truly was an accident,” he said, looking guiltily down at his hand, fiddling with his fork. “I’m very sorry about…”

  A scream interrupted his apology. We both jumped up to see Mrs. Barker standing for a moment in the doorway to the kitchen. The next moment she had nearly fainted to the floor. Luckily, both the doorway and Marcus were there to catch her.

  He helped her to a chair, and I got up to put more water on for tea.

  “Oh, my lord! You gave me such a fright,” she said, still shaken.

  “I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Barker.”

  “And my goodness, look at you! You’re a mess! What have you been at?”

  Marcus looked down and noticed the dirt and grass stains all over his clothes. Rubbing a hand across his unshaven cheeks, he said, “I’m terribly sorry. I have, um…”

  “We’ve had quite a night, Mrs. Barker, and I’m afraid I’ve kept his lordship talking for much too long.”

  “And look at you!” she cried.

  I noticed that my dress, too, was filthy. My hair was down around my shoulders, and I had one shoe on and one shoe off.

  “Yes, well, as Miss Grace has said, we’ve had quite a night,” Marcus repeated, while giving me a conspiratorial smile.

  “Well, both of you go straight up to your rooms. I will see that plenty of water is heated, and you shall both have baths as soon as it can be arranged.” Mrs. Barker was already up and bustling around, finding water and a large container to heat it in.

  Marcus and I stood there laughing at her until she turned around and put her hands on her hips. “What are you doing just standing there?” she scolded. “Go on, now!”

  As I followed Marcus out of the room, Mrs. Barker put out her hand and touched him on the shoulder causing him to pause. “It’s good to see you, my lord,” she said quietly, tears glimmering in her eyes.

  Marcus turned and gave the woman a hug. “It’s good to see you too. And thank you for all you’ve done. I…” He stopped and shook his head. “Just… thank you.”

  Pots began to clatter loud enough to wake the whole household as we left the room.

  I preceded Marcus up the main stairs, but turned back when I sensed that he’d stopped following me. He had paused and was looking all around him with a great big grin on his face.

  At my questioning look, he gave a laugh and a shrug. “I haven’t walked up these steps in months.”

  I took a step back down. Looking straight into his eyes, I caressed his scratchy cheek with my hand. “I can’t imagine how you’ve lived like that for so long.”

  He put his hand on top of mine and gave a little shrug. “I would still be doing so, if it weren’t for you.”

  Tears stung my eyes at the look of gratitude on his face. Blinking furiously, I slipped my hand away from his face and turned back around. I couldn�
�t speak, my throat was so caught up with emotion. All I could do was continue on to my room.

  Joseph came in a few minutes later, carrying a small hip tub. “Sorry, Miss, his lordship got the bigger one,” he apologized.

  “That’s quite all right, Joseph. I don’t mind.”

  My bath made me feel so good and relaxed that I could barely make it into my bed before I fell fast asleep.

  It seemed only a few minutes later when I was woken up by Mrs. Barker. “I am so sorry, Miss, I hate to disturb you,” she whispered loudly right next to me.

  I rolled over, every muscle in my body aching. “What is it, Mrs. Barker?”

  “It’s Mr. Collier, Miss, the vicar. He’s here and he insists on seeing you immediately. I’ve told him that you were resting after your trying day yesterday, but he says that it’s vitally important that he speak to you.”

  I sighed and closed my eyes again. “All right. Tell him I’ll be down as soon as I can.”

  “Yes, Miss.” She paused and then added, “I’ll send Alice up to help you dress.”

  “Thank you.”

  I bolted upright as I suddenly remembered the night before. Marcus! He was alive!

  I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart. I would see him, talk to him—touch him—later. I wondered if he was up yet. I tried to hide the smile that surely covered my face as the maid came in to help me dress.

  I was never so grateful to have help getting dressed. As I said, every muscle in my body hurt. They protested every time I moved, although the more I moved, the looser they became. By the time I went down to the drawing room, I was feeling slightly better. I was eager to see Marcus again, and oddly enough looking forward to meeting the vicar as well—hopefully I would get some answers about all that had happened the day before.

  Mrs. Barker served tea as soon as I went in, for which I was very grateful because I was starving.

  “Good morning, Mr. Collier. Thank you so much for coming to visit,” I said as politely as I could, sitting down to pour out the tea.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Grace,” Mr. Collier said, sitting down opposite me warily. “I am sorry to disturb your rest, but I felt I had to see you.” He pulled a shoe out of his pocket. “This wouldn’t happen to be yours?” he asked.