The Ghost (37 page)

Brigadier General Josiah Harmer was in charge, but so far, it had been a disaster. His troops had been ambushed twice, and nearly two hundred men had been killed. But from everything Sarah could glean, by Thanksgiving at least, Fran+oois was not among them. And by the time she sat down to dinner with Colonel Stockbridge and several of the Deerfield families he had invited to join him for Thanksgiving at the garrison, Sarah was deeply worried. But she could let on to no one. And she was very distracted as she attempted to make conversation with everyone, and inquire about their relatives and children.

And when she went back to the farm the next day, she was grateful not to have to talk to anyone. She had taken a Wampanoag guide with her. She didn't even have to deal with Lieutenant Parker anymore. Mercifully, he had been transferred.

She was lost in her own thoughts, as they finally reached Shelburne. She thanked the Indian who had traveled with her, and gave him a saddlebag full of food to take with him. And as she sent him on his way, she pulled her cloak tightly around her in the cold, and heard a rustling in the woods beyond the dealing. For a moment, she looked concerned, and walked as quickly as she could toward her kitchen, where she kept the musket Francis had left with her. But before she could reach the house, he came galloping into the clearing, in full war dress with his hair flying, a headband of eagle feathers flying out behind him. They were a badge of honor given to him by the Iroquois years before, and as she stared at him in astonishment, she realized it was Fran+oois. He wore a victorious smile, and gave a tremendous whoop as he jumped from his horse, and ran to her, and this time there was no hesitation on her part, as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

Oh God ' how I missed you ' she said breathlessly when he finally let her go again. She could no longer remember a single reason for her reservations about him. I was so worried ' so many men were killed '

Too many, he said, still holding her tight, and then he looked at her sadly. It is not over. The braves are rejoicing now, but the Army will come back again, stronger and more of them. Little Turtle and Blue Jacket will not win this war forever. They've been very foolish. He knew there would be more deaths, more murdered families, more slaves, more destruction, more anger, and the Indians would lose everything in the end. He hated watching it all happen, but he couldn't even think of it now as he held her. You will never know how I missed you, he said, and kissed her again gently.

He swept her up easily in his arms then and carried her inside. It was cold in her kitchen. She had been gone for two days, and the fire had been out, for the boys had gone to a neighboring family for Thanksgiving. They had seven daughters and the boys had been very happy to pay them a visit.

And as soon as Francois set her down, he began making a fire for her, as she set her cloak down. She was wearing the blue velvet gown she had bought in Boston. She had worn it for Thanksgiving. And as he looked at her now he saw that it was the same color as her eyes, and he knew that he had never seen a more beautiful woman, not in Paris or Boston, or Deerfield or even among the Iroquois, not even Crying Sparrow, much as he had loved her. There was only one woman for him now, this slip of a girl who had always been so brave each time he saw her, the woman he had fallen so desperately in love with. He had never expected it to happen to him at his age. He had lived to see nearly forty summers, as the Indians said, and yet he loved her as though his life had just been beginning. He picked her up in his arms again then, and as he kissed her, he could feel her abandon herself to him. She had long since given her heart to him, and her soul along with it. And she had prayed every day for his safe return, and hated herself for not having given herself to him before he left, or at least told him how much she loved him. And she told him again and again now as he carried her to her bedroom. She had never loved any man but him, and as he lay her gently down on her bed and looked at her, she reached her arms up to him, and trembled as he held her. She had never known the gentle touch of any man, and no one had ever been as kind to her as he was. And he was infinitely gentle to her now, as he carefully took off the velvet gown, and placed her like a newborn child beneath the covers. Turning away from her, he let his buckskins fall quickly to the floor, and slipped into the bed beside her.

I love you, Sarah, he whispered to her, and he no longer looked like an Indian, but just a man to her, the man she loved, and there was nothing terrifying about him. He was all gentleness and kindness as he reached out slowly to her, and explored her body with the invisible magic of his fingers. And she lay in his arms moaning softly. And then at last, ever so gently he took her, and held her close to him, unable to control himself for long, he had wanted her so badly, almost ever since the day he met her, and he knew with total certainty that this was the life for which they had both been born, and as they lay together long into the night he felt as though his body and his soul had exploded in a shower of comets.

She lay silently in his arms afterward, lying close to liim, feeling his heart beat next to her, and she smiled as she looked up at him in sated pleasure. I never knew it could be anything like that, she whispered.

It can't, he said just as softly. It's a gift to us from the Gods of the Universe, it has never been like this for anyone before, he said, and smiled as he closed his eyes, pulling her even closer.

They slept in each other's arms that night, and when they woke in the morning, and she looked at him, she knew that they were one now, and always would be.

The next weeks were magical for them. He was free of his obligations to anyone, and he could stay with her for as long as they wanted. They walked to the waterfall each day, he taught her to walk with snowshoes on, he told her Indian legends she'd never heard before and they spent hours and hours in bed in each other's arms, making love and discovering each other. Neither of them had ever known a life like this one. And he told her that when the snows thawed, he wanted to take her to meet the Iroquois. As far as he was concerned, she was his wife now.

And two weeks after their life together had begun, he took her to the waterfall, and she noticed that he was looking very solemn. He was quiet as they walked, and she wondered what he was thinking of. Perhaps his son, she thought ' or Crying Sparrow, but he looked as though he was worried about something, or deeply troubled. And when they reached the waterfall, he told her what he had been thinking.

The waterfall was outwardly frozen by then, but still spectacular to look at, and the world around them was blanketed with snow as he held her hand in his own and spoke very softly.

We are married in our own eyes, little one ' and the eyes of God ' you can never have been married to that terrible man, in England ' there is no God in any heaven who would want you to spend a lifetime of such torture. And in the eyes of God, you are free now. You have earned your freedom.

I will not take you into bondage again, he said as he went on, still holding her hand, but I will take your heart, and give you mine, if you will have me. I will be your husband from this day, until my death. I will promise you my life, and all my honor, he said, bowing to her, and then he quietly took a small gold ring from his pocket. He had traded for it months before, in Canada, during the summer. And he had wanted to give it to her, but he was afraid to. And now he knew it was the right moment. If I could, Sarah, I would give you my title, and my land. I have no other heir, but all I can give you now is who I am, and what I have here. But all that I am and have is yours now, he said, slipping the ring on her finger. It fit her perfectly, and was a narrow band of gold studded with the tiniest of diamonds. It was truly a wedding band, and she only hoped as she looked at it that the woman who had worn it before had been happy. But she knew as she looked at Fran+oois that he was all he said he was, and that in her heart, from this day forth, he would be her husband.

I love you more than I can ever tell you, she whispered with tears glistening in her eyes, wishing that she had a ring to give him. But she had nothing, other than herself, her heart, her life, her trust, which was something she had given no one until Francois. And she trusted him completely.

They exchanged their vows at the waterfall, and then they walked slowly home, and made love again. And when she woke in his arms, she looked happily at the pretty ring on her finger.

You make me so happy, she said, rolling over playfully on him again, and he could never resist her. And later, as they sat in bed, drinking tea and eating corn bread, he asked her if she cared what people would think now, if anyone discovered they were living together. Not really, she admitted to him. I suppose if I did, I would never have left England. But he still thought they should be careful. There was no need to bring the disgust of the entire parish down on them. If eventually they were found out, they would live with it. But there was no need to flaunt what had happened. Although neither of them thought they would be good at keeping a secret.

They got their first opportunity to try at Christmas dinner at the garrison, when they arrived separately and pretended to be surprised to see each other. But both of them feigned far too much innocence, and glanced at each other far too often. Had the canny Mrs. Stockbridge been there, she would have seen through them immediately, but fortunately for them, she wasn't. And they got away with it, this time, but Sarah knew that people would not be fooled forever. Someone would see them, or talk, and inevitably her reputation would be tarnished. But as she said to Francois, in the end, it didn't really matter, as long as they had each other.

As it turned out, their life went on quite peacefully dirough the New Year, and then one afternoon, while she was trying to break through the ice, and get water at the well, a man in city clothes rode into the clearing. He had a Nonotuck guide with him, a very old man, and the white man looked chilled to the bone, as he looked intently at Sarah. And she didn't know why, but she sensed something ominous about him, and she casually looked around her for help, and remembered that Fran+oois had gone to one of the small forts on the river for fresh ammunition, and the boys had gone with him.

The man in city clothes rode straight up to her, and looked down at her with determination. Are you the Countess of Balfour? It was an odd question to ask her, and although there had been rumors about it for a long time, no one had ever dared to ask her quite this bluntly. At first she was inclined to deny it, and then decided it wasn't worth the trouble.

I am. And you, sir? Who are you?

My name is Walker Johnston. I'm an attorney, from Boston, he said, as he dismounted. He looked stiff and tired, but she had no desire to invite him inside until she knew what he wanted. And the old Indian guide with him seemed to have no interest in the matter. May we go inside?

What is your business, sir? She didn't know why, but her hands were shaking.

I have a letter for you, from your husband. For a moment, she thought he meant Fran+oois and that something had happened to him, and then she made the connection. Her voice shook as she asked the next question.

Is he in Boston?

Of course not. He's in England. I was hired by a firm in New York. They traced you to America quite some time ago. It took a little while to find you here though. He sounded as though he expected her to apologize to him for causing so much trouble.

What does he want from me? She suddenly wondered if this man and the old Indian were going to throw her over their horses and carry her back to Boston. But it seemed unlikely, knowing Edward. It was far more likely that the man had been hired to shoot her. But perhaps not, if he was a lawyer. She wondered. Perhaps he was only masquerading as an attorney. She was instinctively afraid of him, but she was equally determined not to be overcome by terror.

I am to read you his lordship's letter. The man persisted. May we go inside? he asked with a look of frozen determination, and she could see that he was freezing.

All right, she relented, and offered him a cup of hot tea, once he was in her kitchen and took his icy coat off. She gave the old Indian corn bread, but he was happy waiting outside. He was wearing warm pelts, and he wasn't bothered by the weather.

And with that, the attorney from Boston puffed up his feathers like an ugly little black bird and glared at her as he unfolded the letter from Edward. He was obviously prepared to read it to her, and she held out a hand with a look that would have told anyone her rank and title.

May I read it myself, sir? she asked, holding out a hand, and when he gave it to her, she prayed the trembling of her hand would not betray her.

She recognized Edward's hand at once, and the venom of his words no longer surprised her. He was clearly furious that she had left, and called her every imaginable name he could think of, most of them relating to her being a whore, and dirt beneath his feet, and no loss to anyone in the county. He spoke of her dismal failure to provide him with an heir, and at the end of the first page, he said he disowned her. But on the second page, he reminded her that she would receive no funds from him at all, would never reclaim anything that might have been hers, or had been left to her by her father, and that she would inherit nothing from him after his death, none of which surprised her. He said he was redoing his will now. He even threatened to bring charges against her for stealing her mother's jewelry, or better yet treason for stealing from a peer of the realm. But as the British no longer ruled in Massachusetts, she knew that there was nothing he could do to her now, except berate her. But he could bring charges against her in England, and he warned her never to set foot in England.

And then he reminded her quite cruelly that wherever she went, whatever she did, she could not marry again, unless she wished to face charges of bigamy, and if she had children, if they lived, which seemed quite unlikely given her pathetic history, they would all be bastards. It was not a pleasant prospect, but one which she had considered long since. She knew full well that she could not marry again as long as Edward lived, and so did Fran+oois, and they seemed able to live with it, so Edward's threats were empty.