The Ghost by Danielle Steel Page A

Pellerin had it entirely built by the Indians and local craftsmen. He showed them everything, and taught them how to do the work. It all looks as though it was done by master craftsmen brought over from Europe.
    And as they stepped inside, they were instantly in another world. The ceilings were high, the floors were inlaid and beautiful, there were long, graceful French windows leading out of every room, marble fireplaces, and the proportion of each room was perfect. It was so beautiful that Charlie could easily imagine it filled with graceful, elegant people, brilliant sunshine, extravagant flowers, and exquisite music. It was like a trip back into history, and yet the warmth and beauty of the place made one want to sit down quietly and just be there. Charlie had never felt this way anywhere, and all he could do was look around and stare. Even the color of the walls was perfect, there were warm creams, and butter-yellows, and pale grays, a blue the color of summer sky in the dining room, and a pale peach in what had apparently been Sarah's boudoir. It was the most beautiful house he'd ever seen, and he could only picture it filled with laughter and love and happy people.
    Who was she? he whispered reverently as they walked from room to room, and then he looked up in surprise as he noticed murals and gold leaf edging the ceilings. Everything was in exquisite taste, every detail had been seen to, and executed with utter perfection. Charlie wanted to imagine her as they stood in what had been her bedroom. Was she beautiful, was she young, was she old? What had caused the French count to build this tiny perfect palace for her? What had she been that had made him so extravagantly love her? Charlie knew only that he had been a count, and she a Countess, but there was so much more here. Something about the beauty and the spirit of the place told him without actually saying it that they had been real people. And suddenly, he was starving for information about them, but Gladys was very sparing in what she told him.
    Sarah Ferguson was very beautiful, I've been told. I've only seen one drawing of her, and a miniature they have at the museum in Deerfield. She was quite well known around here. She bought a farm when she came, and she lived alone, which apparently created quite a stir' . and when he built this house for her, they lived together before being married, which, for the locals of their day, was considered utterly shocking. He smiled at what she was saying, wishing that he could have seen her. He wanted to go directly to the local historical society and read everything he could about her. But the count who had built the house for her fascinated him as much as she did.
    What happened to them eventually? Did they go back to Europe, or stay?
    He died, and she lived in this house for long years after that. She never left. In fact, she died here. She was buried not far from the house, in a little clearing. There's a waterfall near here, which the Indians say is sacred and where they were seen to go walking almost every day. He was very involved with the Indians, and very respected by all the local tribes. He was married to an Iroquois woman long before he married Sarah. Just listening to her filled Charlie's mind with more questions.
    What brought them together then, if they were both married to other people? He was fascinated and confused and he wanted to know all of it, but even Gladys didn't know all the details.
    Passion brought them together, I suppose. I don't think they were together for many years, but it was clearly a deep love they shared. They must have both been very remarkable people. Jimmy swears he saw her here the summer they stayed in the house, but I don't really think he did. I think I had probably just told him too many stories. Sometimes that can create an illusion. It was an illusion Charlie would have loved to experience. There was something about the house and the place and the feelings that nearly overwhelmed