The Ghosts and Hauntings Collection

by Cat Knight

“Totally, just as soon as you chase away that bloody ghost.”

  “And how, pray, do I do that?”

  “I would think the first thing is to find out whose ghost it is.”

  “Ghosts come from people who actually lived, correct?” Darcy asked. “I mean, you can’t have the ghost of Sherlock Holmes, since he wasn’t real.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “How do we find the right person?”

  “Did someone die on the boat? I would think that would be the place to start. Who died and left their spirit behind?”

  Mandy’s hands shook as she gripped her glass.

  “We need a history of the boat.”

  “Precisely.”

  Mandy stared down at her feet for a moment before she looked Darcy straight in the eyes.

  “Sell the boat,” Mandy said.

  “What?”

  “This is not fun or funny anymore. Your boat is haunted, and this ghost is nasty.”

  “You can’t say that.”

  “Look at your hands. Listen to your aching body. Look at me. I was never afraid of the water, not any water, until now. And I’m scared because some damn ghost tried to kill me. Sell the boat. Buy another.”

  “You know I can’t afford another boat, not like this one. There has to be another way.”

  “I’m your best friend. I care for you. I don’t want to visit your grave and read ‘She couldn’t afford another boat’ on your headstone.”

  “Nothing is going to happen to me. If it’s a ghost, well, if it is, then I’ll figure out a way to get rid of it.”

  Mandy shook her head.

  “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

  Darcy sipped her pint and wondered just how she was going to chase away a ghost. After a moment, she had to admit that she didn’t have a clue.

  Darcy took several pain tablets before she went to bed. Her ailments were killing her. In the morning, she might not be able to move if things kept going downhill at this rate. In bed, she closed her eyes and was thankful for just one thing. The ghost that haunted the boat had not followed her home.

  Chapter Twelve

  Darcy knocked on the door of the small cottage. It was one of those country houses people always wanted to rent for the summer. Stone wall in front, garden behind, it was the magazine house, the one on the cover. When the door opened, Darcy was met by a short, thickish woman in tweed skirt, modest blouse, and sensible shoes.

  “Yes?” the woman asked.

  “My name is Darcy Willoughby, and I came about the boat.”

  “Boat?”

  “The boat you sold, the Eleanor.”

  “Won’t you come in? We can’t very well chat here, and I can’t leave George alone for more than a few minutes. My name is Eleanor.”

  She opened the door, and Darcy passed into the inside of the magazine cottage. It was a perfect mate to the outside. Eleanor closed the door and limped past Darcy, her leg refusing to bend at the knee, but then Eleanor was quite a bit older.

  “I had an accident on the boat.” Eleanor had noticed Darcy watching it seemed. “Please pay no attention to the mess, I have difficulty keeping up with the chores.”

  To Darcy’s eye, nothing was out of place. Nothing. She wished her own flat were half as clean and neat.

  Eleanor led Darcy to the small parlour. There was a small fire in the fireplace, and she knew the fire was for the man in the wheelchair. One glance at the man told Darcy all she needed to know. He was addled. It might have been a stroke or an auto accident, but the man showed the unmistakable symptoms of brain damage. He leaned to one side. His face drooped. That he didn’t drool was a blessing. He eyed her, but he said nothing, and she supposed he might not be able to speak.

  “Tea?” Eleanor asked.

  “Please,” Darcy answered. For the British, turning down tea was forbidden.

  Eleanor left the room, and Darcy examined the knick-knacks and photos placed on the mantle and tables. Checking out the memorabilia seemed infinitely better than trying small talk with the man in the wheelchair.

  On the mantle was a photo of the boat, the boat Darcy had bought. In front of the boat stood the man in the wheelchair, a big smile on his face. Next to him was Eleanor. Darcy guessed the photo had been taken the day they acquired the vessel.

  She had heard the old saw that said there were two days when a man was happy to have a boat—the day he bought it and the day he sold it. When Darcy had acquired the boat, she’d intended to be happy with it every day.

  The man in the wheelchair said something, and to Darcy it sounded more grunt than word. She turned and smiled, hiding the fact that she had not understood. She did not want to seem impolite.

  “Yes,” she said. “The Eleanor. A very nice boat.”

  The man didn’t try to smile. In fact, his face twisted even more, and Darcy wondered if she had upset him. She hadn’t intended to. Perhaps, he hadn’t agreed to sell the boat. Of course, in his condition, he probably didn’t have a vote. He grunted a second time, and she was just as mystified. What was he trying to say?

  Darcy moved closer and wondered if she should try to communicate with George. That he looked completely out of touch wasn’t encouraging, but manners required some attempt, didn’t it?

  “I took out the boat,” Darcy began. “It… it wasn’t what I expected.”

  If George recognized Darcy’s presence, it didn’t show.

  “It’s a very nice boat,” she continued. “But it has a few bugs, if you know what I mean.”

  His face didn’t move, his eyes seemed dead.

  “The compass for one. And the GPS and the engines. Did you have those issues when you were captain of the Eleanor?”

  A spark showed in the man’s eyes, or at least, Darcy thought it was a spark. His lip moved as if to speak, but if he said something, she didn’t hear. She watched for more, and the lip moved again. She moved close and put her ear to his lips. She felt a bit silly, but if he wanted to tell her something…

  His voice was a whisper, barely audible, and hard to fathom, but she got it, she got it all.

  “Ghost.”

  Naked cold raced up Darcy’s spine. For a moment, she couldn’t move or speak. She was literally frozen in place as George struggled again.

  “Ghost” he managed to say from his twisted mouth. His eyes bulging.

  She stood and backed up as step as George came alive.

  He slammed the armrest and worked his face, and he looked like some sort of gargoyle, hideously spouting evil. She backed up another step, but his fit didn’t subside. Fear gripped her brain. She was paralyzed.

  “Dear me,” Eleanor said as she entered the room. “I must apologize.”

  Silent, Darcy watched Eleanor push George from the room. Shaking, Darcy sat and interlaced her fingers to control the quivers. She forced herself to consider George’s warning, because it was a warning. Darcy was certain of that.

  “Ghost.”

  Simple and direct and something she didn’t want to believe in. Her insides felt cold, colder than ever.

  “Ghost.”

  The word echoed through her brain. What was she to do? She had heard of haunted boats, ships that plied the seas without crew or purpose.

  Stories of ships that floated out of the fog to baffle terrified mariners. She knew of them —but not her boat, surely. Why her boat? She half fell into her chair.

  “Don’t you love tea?” Eleanor said when she returned. “Oh, I don’t mean the drink so much as the ritual. A bit of tea and maybe a scone, and the world’s problems seem to disappear.”

  Eleanor was speaking quickly and her smile was just a tad too bright.

  “It makes for more pleasant conversation,” Darcy agreed. “It always seems to lead to the topic at hand. In this case, the boat.”

  “Yes,” Eleanor answered. “The boat, George’s boat. Please forgive George,” Eleanor said. “He’s been very erratic since the accident.”

  “Accident?”


  “Yes, and I will be the first to admit that he’s lucky to be alive.”

  Darcy didn’t have to ask. Eleanor knew she would have to divulge just how “lucky” George was, because to Darcy, he didn’t look all that fortunate.

  “It happened on the boat,” Eleanor began. “George took it out because I had an appointment. I told him to wait for me, but he was obstinate. Actually, I didn’t often go out with him because I never felt comfortable on it.”

  “Why was that?”

  “I don’t know exactly. It was just a feeling, as if someone was watching me. Silly, I’m sure. The only things that might see me were the gulls always flying overhead.”

  Eleanor paused momentarily, a cloud forming over her features. “Once or twice, I thought I heard a voice, a woman’s voice, but some birds sound like that. George said that. Boats didn’t talk. In any case, I wasn’t there. When George didn’t return on time, I contacted the shore patrol. I expected George to come home and chastise me for not having faith in his seamanship. He came back all right… straight to hospital.”

  Darcy sipped tea. She knew better than to interrupt.

  “He had fallen and struck his head,” Eleanor continued. “Since no one was there, we don’t know how it happened.”

  “I’m so sorry” Darcy sympathy was real.

  “He was in a coma for some time, and when he woke, well, you can see how he is.”

  “Is he expected to get better?”

  Eleanor shook her head.

  “I’m afraid not. The damage is permanent. Every time I mention the boat, he gets agitated. I suppose he remembers the fall. That would agitate me. What are you going to do with the Eleanor?”

  “I’m turning it into a charter,” Darcy answered. “I will cater to the young and adventurous, couples who want a romantic weekend at sea, or a sexy ride to France or Ireland. I’m working with a wedding planner to sell it to newlyweds.”

  “Fantastic. I wish you all the luck in the world.”

  “I’ll need it.”

  For the next minute, Eleanor, in her sensible tweed skirt and silk blouse, carried the conversation.

  She started with the weather which was always awful. Then, she shared that her astrologer had assured Eleanor that the next week was going to be particularly fortuitous.

  “Now,” Eleanor said looking Darcy directly in the eye as she sipped tea. “I suppose you have specific questions about that god-forsaken boat.”

  Darcy smiled, the best smile she could muster. “Who sold George the boat?”

  “George bought the boat from a friend. He knew his Lordship personally.”

  “His Lordship?”

  “Yes, Lord Grey. It was his boat.”

  “What was the name of the boat when you bought it?”

  “It was the Grey Lady. He named it for his wife.”

  “But you didn’t keep that name?”

  “Oh no, that would be bad luck. At least, that was what George said. It turned out that not even a new name helped.”

  “You’ll have to explain,” Darcy said.

  “Well, after Lady Grey died, things went bad for Lord Grey. He was actively looking to sell the boat when George bought it. George got a very good deal.”

  “I understand, and you renamed the boat.”

  “Oh yes, the Eleanor was our boat even if it didn’t run quite right. We even had a dickens-of-a-time keeping the decal on, but that was just the least of it. I must confess that I had perhaps two good days on that boat.”

  Darcy frowned but didn’t divulge her own woes. That might jeopardise what Eleanor had to tell her.Darcy wanted the truth, all of it. “What did your husband say was the problem?”

  “George said it was an unlucky boat… or maybe haunted.”

  Darcy heard the words and bit her lip to quell the fear that ate at the edges of her poise. She forced it into a corner for the moment.

  Darcy finished her tea.

  “You said something about Lady Grey dying. Do you remember how that happened?”

  “Well, Lord and Lady Grey were on the boat. They ran into a sudden squall, and well, in the storm, Lady Grey fell overboard. As you must know, squalls can be especially rough.”

  Darcy let out a gasp, this was it, this was the clue. It was the reason she had come.

  “Lord Grey searched for hours, but he never recovered the body. It was dreadful.”

  “I can only imagine. What a terrible thing.”

  “So, you see, that boat has been unlucky for quite some time. But I’m sure that will end with a young captain like you.”

  Darcy smiled, hiding that she was not at all sure the bad luck would end — not if the back luck came from an unhappy spirit.

  The interview ended five minutes later as Darcy’s stomach was turning and she had suddenly lost the desire to know more. Death on the seas, no wonder there was a ghost. But would her new knowledge help?

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Lady Grey?” Mandy asked.

  “She’s the one,” Darcy answered.

  They sat in a pub booth, pints in front of them. Darcy knew that Mandy ached precisely as Darcy did. They had not gotten over their near disaster. Darcy was pretty sure Mandy wasn’t going back on the boat for any reason.

  “I don’t remember a thing about that. When did it happen?”

  “I looked it up. Over ten years ago. It was odd. They were on their way to France, and a squall blew up, nothing unusual there. While he fought the storm, she was on deck doing something. When he looked back, she was gone. And he had no idea how long she had been gone.

  So, he radioed shore patrol and cruised around trying to find her. He never found her, and the body never came ashore anywhere.”

  “Is that odd?”

  “Not at all. God knows how many bodies lie at the bottom of the channel. More than we would want to know.”

  “All right,” Mandy said and sipped her ale. “So, why does she haunt the boat? I mean, what happened that kept her anchored to the boat? Sure, her body was never cremated or buried, but that’s nothing new. Why didn’t she go to the light or do what-ever it is that departing human spirits are supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Darcy said. “And remember, George fell, banged his head, and now, he’s...” She didn’t complete the sentence. George’s twisted image remained in her mind.

  “Well George didn’t die, so I’m not going to include him. My quid is on Lady Grey.”

  “That would be the logical choice.”

  “Remember, there is no revenge like a woman scorned — or something like that.”

  “Hell hath no fury.”

  “Yeah, that.”

  “I guess he should have kept on searching and not just left her there.”

  “What if there is no ghost?” Darcy asked.

  “Come on, I was on the boat, remember? The question is, if it is really haunted, then how to get it un-haunted.”

  “I have no bloody idea! But I do need to know what’s what, or who’s who. I’m going home to look up Lady Grey online. I bet there are a hundred conspiracy theories.”

  “Maybe she was never actually on the boat. You know how the peers get away with everything. I bet he killed her on land and stuffed her body into a freshly dug grave.”

  Darcy shook her head.

  “You’ve had too much to drink. Scotland Yard isn’t that inept.”

  “Hah! Nothing is fool-proof for a sufficiently talented fool.”

  Mandy looked superior, but Darcy knew there wasn’t any winner.

  They hadn’t solved anything. The boat hadn’t become un-haunted. And she was still out all her savings.

  “I’m going to the boat. Want to come?” Darcy said, already knowing the answer.

  “Not even on a dare. You’re not taking it out, are you?”

  “No, but I’m going to talk to her.”

  “The boat?”

  “Lady Grey. I’m going to tell her that it’s my boat now, and I can’t abide shari
ng it with a ghost that makes trouble.”

  Mandy’s stared, silent for a moment. “Are you daft? You really think she’ll listen? Look at what she did to me.”

  Darcy breathed in calm and blew out frustration. She had read somewhere that such tactics helped in times of stress. She didn’t want to sound snappy and none of it was anything to do with Mandy. “I have no idea, but I think it’s worth a try. I mean, I can plead my case, can’t I?”

  “What makes you think that a ghost can even listen to the people they scare to death? Do they even hear? I mean, it’s not like they possess the physical wherewithal. No body, no ears, right?”

  “I don’t think there’s a ghost lore for dummies book,” Darcy said evenly. “But I see no reason why they can’t hear, unless perhaps if they were deaf when they died. No, no, I have to believe that death confers some power. If you were deaf or blind, now you’ll see and hear.”

  “So, just to reiterate my earlier position. I do not wish to accompany you. I’m not quite healed from the last time I was on that boat — and in the water. You really think I would risk it again!”

  Mandy’s voice had become shrill.

  “OK, but it’s not like you weren’t saved.”

  “I’m having nightmares if you must know. I can’t get that dunking out of my mind.”

  “But you’re fine now. And we know what we’re dealing with.”

  Darcy winced. Why was she was arguing with Mandy, trying to convince her to come?

  “And you said yourself it was trying to kill me. And if you had any sense – you wouldn’t go. You’re probably on its agenda too.”

  Darcy had to agree, but she didn’t voice her thoughts. To Darcy’s mind, there was no choice. She had to go unless she was prepared to lose all of her investment.

  And the better half of her admitted she was just a teensy bit afraid. Just a little bit. And that it was horrible cowardice to try to inveigle Mandy.

  Suddenly, no matter what, she knew she was going alone. She sought to calm Mandy.

  “I tell you what. When I finish with Lady Grey, I’ll text you so you know she didn’t play some nasty trick on me.”

  “You’re being pretty airy considering what happened.”