Ghost of the Thames (34 page)

"My husband?" she asked
brokenly.

"Will you marry me, Sophy?"

She looked up at him with eyes filling
with tears. There was nothing she wanted in this world more than to
spend the rest of her life with this man. He gave her reason to
live. He gave her the hope to face each day. She wanted him. She
loved him as she knew it was impossible to ever love
another.

“But my name, my family’s reputation,
is forever tarnished. I will be an embarrassment to
you.”

“I love you. You will be my pride and
my pleasure,” he told her softly. “Whatever needs to be put right,
we’ll do it together. Whatever reparations need to be made, we’ll
make them together.”

She looked up into Edward’s dark eyes
and knew that, regardless of the troubles awaiting them, there was
no place she wanted to be but beside him. With him, nothing was
overwhelming. If he was willing to take her, then how could she
refuse?

“What do you say, Sophy? Will you
marry me?”

“You should marry him right away,
little one, before he realizes how much trouble you really
are.”

Both of them turned. They hadn’t heard
the door open. Priya stood in the opening, still weak and leaning
against the door frame, but her face showed her joy.

She nodded to Sophy. “He is definitely
a champion. You should marry him before he has a chance to change
his mind.”

Sophy rose on her tiptoes and kissed
his lips. “I will. I will marry you.”

EPILOGUE

Six months
later

Cornwallis Square,
Calcutta

The opening ceremonies of the founding
of the new schools for women and girls had been going on all month.
This one was the third event Edward and Sophy had attended this
week alone, and he was beginning to worry about her becoming
overtired.

The effort to bring formal education
to the women of India had begun a decade ago by some male students
at Elphinstone College, who formed a society to promote the cause.
But now, with Sophy’s inheritance funding it, the dreams were
quickly becoming a reality, and day schools and boarding
institutions were opening. Before leaving England, Sophy had worked
with Dickens to interview and select British women to come to India
to teach, until such time as Indian women could be trained to take
their place. Angela Burdett-Coutts had already committed a large
donation to the cause, as well.

Sophy’s goal was to reach out not only
to those who lived in the cities but to small villages, as well.
She believed education was the way to help these women put an end
to some of the abuses that were prevalent here. John Warren’s web
of iniquity had been shut down, but there were many opportunists
waiting to profit from the same sordid business.

The music played and the celebrations
continued, despite the darkness descending on Calcutta. Torches
were being lit, and dancers were to be seen in every corner of the
square.

Edward looked for Sophy and found her
standing with the Admiral. His father had given his blessing to
Edward’s decision to run for a seat in Parliament. Somehow, an
inspection of Calcutta had required him to sail to India this month
in time to join them. Edward knew it was no coincidence. The
Admiral wanted to meet his daughter-in-law.

From the first moment the Admiral met
Sophy, he’d been enthralled with her. She was the daughter and
niece he’d lost in one. She was the salvation he’d wished for with
regard to their family. Her intelligence and beauty and charm made
him fall in love with her, and he was not reticent in telling his
son how extremely happy and proud he was of his choice.

As happy as Edward was with Sophy’s
conquest, he’d never imagined his father’s attentions would be the
reason that he couldn’t get enough time with her.

Sophy looked around and motioned to
him. Edward made his way through the crowd to the bandstand where
the two were listening to music and chatting.

He and Sophy were sailing back to
England next week. Much of what was being done here, they would
continue to direct long distance, for they’d just discovered that
Sophy was carrying their first child. Priya, originally planning to
stay in India, had changed her mind upon hearing the news. She was
coming back with them to London, and the Admiral was already
planning to be back in England in time for his grandchild’s birth,
as well.

The happiness Edward was feeling these
days was unmatched by anything he’d felt before. The only dark
cloud in his conscience was Amelia’s absence. She had stopped
appearing to Sophy.

As a result of all the arrests and the
dozens of confessions, it had become clear that Henry Robinson died
when he tried to confront a crew moving women from the warehouses
by the river. None of the villains, however, made any mention of
the young woman who had been accompanying Henry.

Sophy turned and smiled up at him as
Edward reached their side. He drew her into his arms.

“This has been a long day,” he said.
“Mothers-to-be need their rest, I’m told.”

“Off with you lad,” the
Admiral said. “Sophy looks as fresh and beautiful as she did this
morning. You mean it’s been a long day for
you
.”

“Yes, for me. The expectant father.”
He smiled and obliged as Sophy lifted her lips to be
kissed.

“And what time are we starting
tomorrow?” the Admiral wanted to know.

“Not too early,” Edward warned, taking
his wife and walking away. “Good night, Admiral.”

There were many dignitaries and
attendees that they had to speak with before they actually left the
celebration. Teachers, students, local chieftains and mothers
stopped them, all wanted to express their gratitude.

When they finally reached their
waiting carriage, though, Edward saw Sophy stop abruptly and turn
around. She was smiling at the group of young women, dressed in
colorful saris, who had gathered under a tree on the edge of the
square.

As Edward looked at the women, he
noticed one dressed in luminous white, gazing back at
them.

Amelia. She was there, and she
smiled.

Author’s Note

We hope you enjoyed Sophy and Edward’s
story. As always, we have tried to depict a place and time in a way
that mingles the real and imagined in an entertaining
way.

Charles Dickens holds a warm place in
our hearts. As novelists, we stand in awe of the creative genius
with which he produced some of the most unique and yet human
characters ever to populate a fictional landscape. Because of his
knowledge of London’s denizens and his compassion for those
struggling in the Victorian Industrial Revolution, he was able to
give identifiable faces to the poor and the downtrodden, and
elevate their stories with a sensitivity that continues to touch
readers a century and a half later.

It was impossible for us
to place our novel in London and not mention Urania Cottage, an
idea founded by Dickens and financed by the millionaire
philanthropist Angela Burdett Coutts. Also, it was amusing to
imagine that the mystery of Sophy’s identity and her connection
with the London riverfront would give Dickens the idea for his
great novel,
Our Mutual
Friend
.

To those wondering about our villain
Shill, he is the shadowy force of evil, the Professor Moriarty, the
Don Corleone. He is the villain who will return.

To our many readers, we want to thank
you for encouraging us to write more McGoldrick novels. We love to
hear from you.

[email protected]

www.JanCoffey.com

A sneak peak at

Flame

by

May McGoldrick

Available in all ebook
formats

The charred shutter, high in the
ruined tower, suddenly banged open as the afternoon breeze moved
around to the west, and the golden rays of sunlight tumbled into
the scorched chamber.

Huddled in the corner on a pile of
straw, a startled figure pulled her ragged cloak more tightly
around her. Even though it was late spring, she found it more and
more difficult to shake off the chill that had crept into her
bones. Perhaps it was because she so rarely saw the sun, she
thought. For she was now a creature of the night, a mere
shadow.

She shivered slightly, acknowledging
the gnawing pangs of hunger in her belly. She shook her head,
trying to dispel the feeling. There would be no food until tonight,
when the steward and the servants that had remained since the fire
all slept. Then she would partake of her nightly haunt. Then she
would search the kitchens for some scrap that might sustain
her.

Those remaining in the castle thought
her a ghost. What fools they would think themselves if they only
knew how human her needs were.

The wood plank continued to bang
against the blackened sill, and she glared at it. This was her rest
time, she silently scolded the troublesome shutter. Like the bats
and the owls, Joanna thought. For it was only under cover of
darkness that she could move about freely in this burned out prison
she had once called home.

Pulling herself to her feet, the
ragged creature moved silently across the floor. As she neared the
offending shutter, she was suddenly aware of the sound of horses in
the distance. Shouts came from the courtyard below, and as she
listened, the yard below seemed to explode in a frenzy of
activity.

Taking hold of the shutter with her
swathed hands, Joanna eased it shut without peering
below.

The doomed man, she thought. The
cursed laird had arrived.

*

The pawing hooves of the tired horses
against the soft ground raised a gray cloud that swirled about the
riders’ heads. Gavin Kerr lifted his eyes from the approaching
grooms and stared at the huge iron cross fastened to the rough
stone wall above the archway of the great oak entry doors. From the
blood-red rust stains on the stone beneath the cross, the new laird
judged that it must have hung there for ages. Tearing his eyes
away, Gavin glanced around at the buildings facing the open
courtyard.

The castle itself was far larger than
he’d expected. Stretching out in angles of sharp stone, the series
of huge structures wrapped around the courtyard like a hand ready
to close. Far above, small slits of windows pierced the walls of
the main building as well as the north wing. The south wing’s upper
windows were larger. A newer addition, he thought. Gavin let his
eyes travel slowly over what he could see. There was no sign of the
fire that had claimed the life of the previous laird, his family,
and their servants. The winter sleet and rains had scoured the
stone of any trace of smoke, no doubt.

He caught the movement from corner of
his eye--the slow closing of a shutter in the tower at the top of
the south wing.

However, men approaching drew Gavin’s
attention earthward again. The tall one scolding the running grooms
had to be Allan, steward to the last four MacInnes lairds. The
man’s graying hair and beard bespoke his advanced years, while his
powerful frame--slightly bent though it was--told of a strength
necessary for the position he had held for so long.

Dismounting from his horse, Gavin
nodded to a groom and handed off his reins as he exchanged
greetings with the bowing steward.

“You did indeed arrive just as we had
expected, m’lord. Not a day too soon nor a day too late.” The old
man’s hands spread in invitation toward the entrance of the castle.
“I took the liberty a day or so ago to have Gibby, the cook, begin
preparing a feast for your arrival.”

He paused as a dozen household
servants, along with a dwarfish, sickly looking priest, came out to
welcome the new laird.

“Your neighbor, the Earl of Athol,”
Allan continued, “has been quite anxious for you to arrive, m’lord.
If you wish, I can send a man over now and invite...”

“Nay, Allan. That can wait for a day
or two.” Gavin’s gaze took in once again the towers at either end
of the courtyard. “While my men settle themselves in, I want you to
take me through this keep.”

The older man nodded his compliance as
he fell in step with the new laird, who was striding toward the
south tower. “You might, m’lord, wish to start in the main part of
the house--what we call the Old Keep--and work toward the kitchens
and the stables in the north wing. There is very little to see in
the south wing.”

Gavin halted abruptly, glanced up at
the south tower, and then looked directly at the
steward.

“Much of this wing was ruined by the
fire, m’lord,” Allan explained quickly. “From the courtyard, it
looks sound, but inside, especially where the wing joins the Old
Keep, the damage was extensive. The roof is gone in some places,
and I’ve had the outside entrances to the building barred to
keep...”