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the lane toward the
river. It was then that she saw the girl in white, gazing at her
from inside the carriage. Sophy hurriedly climbed in, closing the
door. She sat across from the phantom.
    “Tonight was the second time you’ve
done this,” Sophy said sharply. “You disappeared just when I needed
help.”
    “My intention was only to bring you
here. You knew what to do. You did as you were supposed to
do.”
    “I didn’t do anything. Those women and
children are still there. What is to become of them?”
    “They are better off already than they
were before. That’s all you can do for now.”
    Her friend was speaking in
riddles, but Sophy couldn’t bring herself to be angry. She knew
that if the Captain and the other men were successful, those
women would be
better off. Sophy stared at the golden hair cascading around the
shoulders of her guide. This was the closest she’d been to her, and
still she couldn’t really study the features of her face. She was
like an image in a dream, a reflection in water. Sophy reached
across to touch the woman’s knees. Her fingers touched nothing but
cool air.
    “I am imagining you,” she said,
suddenly feeling sick to her very core.
    “You can see me.”
    “Who are you? What are
you?”
    “Does it matter?”
    “It does to me. I need to know if I’m
losing my mind.”
    “Were those people you found behind
the tavern only in your imagination?” the specter asked softly. “Do
you believe you could have walked the dark and dangerous streets to
the outskirts of London and arrived here without my guidance and
protection?”
    Sophy knew she couldn’t
have.
    “Am I the only one who can see
you?”
    Before she could answer, the carriage
door flew open. Captain Seymour peered in, and Sophy could see the
look of relief in his face to see her there. She glanced back at
the empty seat across from her. The woman in white was
gone.
    Removing his top hat, Captain Seymour
climbed in and sat where Sophy’s ghostly friend had been sitting
only a moment before.
    “Were you just talking to someone?” he
asked.
    Sophy took a deep breath, trying to
recover herself. It was no dream. She had been having a
conversation with a ghost.
    “Sophy?”
    She forced her attention back to him.
There was dirt on his coat. The cravat at his throat was askew.
He’d clearly been in a scuffle. She looked up into his face. She
understood what the buzz among the girls at Urania Cottage was all
about. He was handsome—exceedingly so. And confident. And at this
moment, he looked impatient.
    “I asked you—”
    “No,” she said quickly. “I was simply
thinking aloud that you might need my help to finish the fight I’d
started earlier. I was considering coming and giving you a
hand.”
    He stared at her for a moment as if
she were daft. And then he smiled broadly, a chuckle escaping him.
She was pleasantly surprised with the sound, and felt a layer of
tension peel away.
    “I believe you would have,” he said in
a low voice.
    She smiled back at him. She was not
jesting. If not for the appearance of her ghostly guide, she would
have returned to the tavern yard.
    The carriage driver’s head appeared in
the doorway. “All set, sir.”
    “Very good.” The Captain’s voice of
command had returned. “We’re away, then.”
    The door shut, and Sophy felt the
carriage rock slightly as the driver climbed to his
seat.
    “Is it safe to assume that you are not
hurt?” she asked.
    “I am not hurt,” he said, his tone
gentle again.
    The carriage started. Concerned, she
looked out the window. “Whatever happened to those inside the shed?
And the woman hiding outside?”
    “It took a bit of convincing, but the
ruffians delivering the women and the proprietor of the Broken Oar
saw the wisdom of being agreeable. The village constable and the
river policeman who happened to be dining with him this evening
were a great help. Everything is under control; the captives are
free and will remain so. The constable