Free Ghost of the Thames by May McGoldrick

occasional breeze cut through her damp clothes. She had no money
and no idea how far they were to go or what awaited her at their
destination.
    Sophy was surprised when the ghost led
her into a neighborhood of large homes, many surrounded by walls
and gardens. The sound of music and laughter soon reached her ears.
They turned a corner, and she was even more surprised to see a wide
street filled with carriages and well-dressed people on foot. They
eventually reached the source of the festivities, a large garden
with a double gate opening onto the street. She peered in. At the
end of a broad cobblestone plaza, steps led up to a circular
platform, lit by torches and strings of colorful, hanging lanterns.
People were waltzing drunkenly to the music of a small orchestra.
Hundreds of partiers crowded the dance floor and area surrounding
it. At least as many waiters circulated with trays of food and
drink. Her guide approached the gate and entered. Sophy
followed.
    Just inside, a tall, burly man grabbed
Sophy’s arm, stopping her. “’Ere now. Not so fast, doll. A shilling
to go in.”
    She shook off his hand and took a step
back, watching the ghost disappear down one of a dozen shadowy
lanes—laid out like the spokes of a wheel—radiating from the
central dance floor.
    “What is this place?” she
asked.
    “ Cremorne Gardens,” the
man muttered, looking at her curiously. “Been playing in the dirt,
doll?”
    “And what part of London am I in
now?”
    “What are ye trying to pull? Did ye
just drop out of the sky?”
    “No. I . . . I’m lost, that’s
all.”
    “Ye’re in Chelsea,” he said, grabbing
her arm more roughly this time. “But ye are a pretty thing. Ye
trying to say ye don’t work this place, normal?”
    “Work this place?” She couldn’t free
herself.
    “Who’s your bully, doll?”
    She stared at him. “Bully?”
    “Yer fancy man.”
    “I have no fancy man.”
    “All the girls in the Garden are run
by Jack Slade, and he don’t take kindly to dolly mops horning
in.”
    “But I need to get in.”
    “Do ye, now? Well, if ye clean yerself
up, and show yerself to Jack, maybe he’ll find a spot for ye.” With
a leer, the brute pulled her close and took hold of both of her
buttocks in one huge hand. “But first, let’s see what ye got. Why,
just maybe I have a spot for—“
    Sophy delivered a sharp kick to the
man’s shin, hard enough to allow herself to break free. Staggering
back, she started to turn when another set of hands locked onto her
from behind.
    “Well, Trencher, what do we have
here?” The man’s breath reeked of liquor and onion, and his
unshaven face was braced against hers.
    Sophy quivered in disgust. She
struggled against him, but couldn’t get loose.
    “Watch ’er, Jack. She’s a wild ’un.
Just showed up at the gate, claiming she don't know nothing about
the Gardens. Says she’s got no bully.”
    “No bully, you say?” Jack pulled her
tight against his body. “How’s that, love?”
    “I say she’s for your taking, Jack,”
Trencher put in.
    “Let me go,” Sophy cried out. There
was no sign of her ghost guide. Why had she led Sophy into
this?
    Just then, a loud bell rang through
the grounds. A crier was circulating and shouting, “Five minutes to
closing.”
    Her attacker’s hands were like steel
bands on her arms, and he continued to hold her as couples and
groups of people began to stream out. Sophy started to cry out to
them, but Jack began to shake her like a rag doll, and the partiers
simply gawked and laughed and pointed at her as they
passed.
    He stopped and put his lips close to
her ear. “If you don’t shut your gob, love, I’m going to put you
down on these bricks and step on your pretty face. Am I making
myself clear?”
    A group of at least a dozen extremely
intoxicated men and women came staggering toward the exit. The men
appeared to be from various walks of life, but most were
well-dressed. The women were laughing loudly, and their