Phantoms In Philadelphia (Phantom Knights Book 1) Read online

  Chapter 7

  Bess

  Long before the party had begun, my mother had come to me with a list of eligible men, beginning with the richest and moving down to the unworthy. Mother had ranked every young man of our acquaintance that I had met a few over the years with Jack. She expected me to memorize the list, and to grant only the wealthier men more than one dance. It had ruined my mood for the party before the first chords of music were ever struck. Ephraim Knowlton was at the top of the list, a pity since I detested Ephraim, and second was Dudley. If I had told her that I did not mean to marry any of the young men on her list, she would have had heart spasms.

  Since my dances with both Dudley and Ephraim were over, I agreed to dance with whoever asked me, regardless of their wealth and prospects.

  I had watched in curiosity the young woman from the Inn enter, but after witnessing Jack’s blunder by stopping in the middle of the dance, then going straight to the group that was surrounding her, I had a moment of discomfort. Jack was well-known in society to be considering entering holy orders. Watching him go to her and then dance with her, well, the effect that woman had on him was nothing short of alarming. Jack had never paid very much heed to women, at least not without a set purpose. When on a mission and the task called for it, he would spend time with women to discover what he needed to know, but that was all.

  “Would you, Miss Martin?” Dudley’s nasal voice spoke. I looked at him where he was seated in the chair beside mine.

  “I do apologize, Mr. Stanton, but would you mind repeating that?”

  He was not affronted. “I was asking you for the pleasure of the next dance.”

  Oh. I remembered during our first dance of the evening that I had never liked dancing with Dudley. He would stare at me silently, or he would spout some horrible line of poetry or praise. He had a habit of praising my superior height, as if I wanted to be reminded that I stood above many of the men and women in the room.

  When my dearest friend entered, I excused myself to Dudley and went across the room to greet her.

  “Oh, how I have missed you. Promise that you shall not leave again for some time to come,” Edith Harvey exclaimed.

  We broke apart, though held hands as I looked down into her deep brown eyes and laughingly promised that I would be in Philadelphia for the present.

  Edith was fifteen years of age and a slip of a girl. She still had that little girl softness to her face. She was the niece of our family friend General Harvey and had been my friend for the past four years. Even though I was gone from Philadelphia during the war, we stayed in touch through letters. When I moved home three months ago, it was like we had never been separated. Now that we were both making our debuts in society, we would be spending most days together.

  Edith and I stepped away from the door as the music and dancing ended.

  “You must tell me all about your trip,” Edith said, and my mind started going through the story that I had rehearsed about what I had done in Washington and whom I had met. Lies; which made guilt nag at my mind. Another lie to add to the ever growing list. For me, it was the worst part of being a Phantom, never being allowed to tell the people closest to me the truth. But then, what would I tell her? Edith, dear, I can kill a man with my bare hands and have done so on one occasion.

  She would think I was mad and rightly so. Women of high society did not know the art of self defense. We were trained to be demure creatures, seen, but not heard, agreeable without being too forward, encouraging without speaking. When we finally snagged a husband, we were an accessory for his arm, but with no opinion contradictory to his. It was a bleak prospect for one who had lived as a man, traveling through the countryside without restraint. I did not know if I could do it, not to mention my fortune, the dowry that the men hunted me for and would go directly from the solicitor’s hands into his, never truly being my own.

  When I saw Jack start toward us leading the young woman from the Inn along with him, I started to smile, until I heard that hateful voice. “So, John is Miss Clark’s next victim. She has had no fewer than ten since her arrival last month. I had thought better of him, than to be entrapped by such blatant beauty.” I wanted to claw the speaker’s eyes out.

  Edith and I both turned to face Mrs. Hannah Lamont, a woman who was small in stature, mind, and morals. She was my age but had been widowed a year. I had met her first in Baltimore last year, where we had attended the same party. She was as disagreeable then. My gaze ran over her, and I was both disgusted and not surprised by her attire. Her copper-colored gown was cut too low, leaving little to the imagination, while her thick, black hair was pulled back with a few curls dangling across her bony, ivory shoulders.

  I forced a smile to my lips, though I wanted nothing more than to throw the woman from the house. I looked over my shoulder and saw Jack standing near, but it was the look on his companion’s face that brought words to my lips. Turning back to Hannah, I replied, “No indeed, for my brother knows true quality when he sees it.”

  Jack was speaking softly to Miss Clark as if to allay her chagrin over the unfortunate comment, so I hooked arms with Edith, and we walked out of the room.

  As soon as we were in the foyer, Edith spoke, “The nerve of that woman. She boils my blood.”

  “Why, Edith Harvey, I do declare that you have a violent nature. That sweet face masks a dark heart.”

  My words pulled a laugh from Edith. “I am not as interesting as that. Come. Let us taste some of those delicious cakes that your mother’s cook makes so well.”

  Edith led me into the dining parlor, and we went to the sideboard where all manner of small cakes and sweets were waiting to be selected. Leo entered with a tray of champagne, so I took two from him. I was raising my glass to my lips when Jack entered with his companion still upon his arm. I took a moment to appraise her person. She was wearing an ivory gown threaded with gold and gold slippers peeped from beneath the hem. It was her eyes though that set her apart; making her leaps and bounds above the rest of the young women. A truly rare color, and one that I would not have minded possessing. The perfect tone of her pale skin made me feel self conscious over the browned tone of my own. What was one to expect after hours of riding in the sun?

  “I was hoping you would bring your lovely partner to meet me,” I said as they neared.

  “My dear sister, allow me to present Miss Clark. Miss Clark, this is my sister Elizabeth and our dear friend Miss Harvey.”

  Miss Clark offered her hand, and I shook it. For such a small woman, she had a firm grip. She turned to Edith and hesitated a moment before offering her hand. I watched in some curiosity as Edith barely touched it then her eyes lowered to the floor. That was odd, even for sweet, quiet Edith.

  “I thought I recognized you as the young woman from the carriage when your brother came to my rescue.”

  “Yes, and quite surprised was I, but then, John has such a kind heart. He cannot abide to see others mistreated. He has written many a verse on the subject. You should let him read them to you sometime. They are rather good.” I cast Jack an innocent smile.

  “Thank you, sister,” Jack said, trying to end the subject. He knew I loathed poetry.

  “Perhaps, I shall, if he is ever so inclined,” Miss Clark replied, looking up at Jack like he was some mystical creature she found enchanting. I swallowed down a laugh along with my champagne.

  “I hear that you have only recently arrived in our fair city,” I said, appearing conversational, but I was interested because of my brother’s interest.

  “Yes, and I find it prodigiously to my liking.” Miss Clark bestowed a warm smile upon my brother.

  That woman was good. She knew how to draw a man in.

  Jack cast me a look that said he needed to speak with me.

  “Edith and I were about to enjoy some of this delicious food. Will you join us?”

  Miss Clark looked at Jack then agreed. Jack seated Miss Clark at the table with Edith, and he and I went to fill plates. With
our backs to the others, Jack placed two fingers inside his jacket and with his forefinger he traced a N and then a M on the top of his coat. He pulled his fingers from inside his coat, spreading them wide, like in the shape of a note or letter then he intentionally slipped his fingers back into his coat. He tapped his chest over his heart. We had made many signs over the years, ways to speak without words. All of our deputies were well versed in the signs. If I understood his message, Nicholas Mansfield was here and had a letter in his pocket we would do well to acquire. The only setback was that I had never met Nicholas Mansfield. I did not, however, allow that to bother me.

  We were able to enjoy a half hour undisturbed before a man stalked into the room and his eyes fastened on Miss Clark. He looked familiar, and when he spoke, I remembered.

  “Miss Clark, I have come to beg the favor of a dance.”

  I glanced at Jack, who was staring grim-faced at his glass. He was turning the stem in his fingers, and I knew what he was thinking. He raised his eyes to mine, and I barely shook my head. The last thing we needed was for Jack to throw champagne on the man.

  “I do apologize, Mr. Mansfield, but this dance has been claimed by Mr. Martin.”

  So that is he.

  Miss Clark rose, and the rest of us followed her lead. She smiled at Jack, and even I could feel the heat from that look she cast him. “You do remember Mr. Martin, do you not?” She looked again at Nicholas, and I wanted to clap at so skilled a snub.

  “Indeed I do,” Nicholas replied, but Jack only smiled as he took Miss Clark’s hand, leading her away from us.

  Nicholas stared after them, presenting me my chance. I walked toward him then stumbled, catching his arm. He jerked toward me, his arms going about my waist. I pushed myself up straight, bumping the top of my head against his chin. As his chin jerked up, my hand slid into his coat, and two fingers grabbed the top of the letter. It was a trick that my father taught us. He would tie bells to our fingers then make us try to pick his pocket. If the bells rang, we failed. We practiced that until we could snatch anything, large or small, without his feeling a thing. I slid the letter out, crumpling it in my hand and then burying my hand in the folds of my dress.

  “So clumsy, I do apologize.”

  His arms were still around my waist, so I pushed back, and he released me. There was a look that I did not like on his face as he smiled down at me. It was like he thought I did it on purpose. I had, but from the look in his eyes, snatching the letter was not what he thought I was after.

  “You must be Miss Martin,” he said, and I curtseyed. “I hope you do not find me too forward, since we have not been properly introduced, but would you do me the great honor of dancing with me?”

  “Why, yes, thank you, Mr...” I looked up at him expectantly.

  “Mansfield. Nicholas Mansfield.”

  “Allow me but a moment to fetch my fan.” I turned away from him in the guise of searching for my fan but tucked the crumpled letter into the bosom of my dress. Thankfully it was not too low cut; my mother thinking the lower cut fashions scandalous.

  “It is here,” Edith said. She had picked it up from the table.

  Nicholas offered his arm to me and politely offered his other arm to Edith. The man had some manners at least.

  He escorted Edith to a chair, then he and I joined the dance.

  The dance passed as all others––with little conversation and utterly forgettable. After our dance, I sat between Edith and Miss Clark in one corner of the room.

  “Your brother is very charming,” Miss Clark informed me.

  I looked into the woman’s eyes and was not sure whether to be amused or alarmed. Jack had made as much of an impression upon her as she clearly had upon him.

  “Yes, John is a dear.”

  Miss Clark looked at Edith and her lips quirked up. I followed her gaze. Edith was looking anywhere but at Miss Clark. That Edith was not acting her cheerful self surprised me and made me wonder whether there had been some disagreement between the two. Miss Clark appeared to be a pleasant enough young woman, and she had clearly won Jack’s good opinion.

  “Do you ride, Miss Clark?”

  “Yes, whenever I get the chance.”

  “Then perhaps you would care to join Edith and me one afternoon.” I looked at Edith and noticed her face had paled an entire shade.

  “Why that would be delightful,” Miss Clark said, adding, “and perhaps your brother would accompany us.”

  “Mr. Martin does not care for riding,” Edith informed her sternly.

  I sat between them, my gaze going from one to the other while they stared at each other. Miss Clark smiled rather roguishly.

  “Perhaps he would change his mind, if the temptation were enough.”

  The look Edith cast Miss Clark was full of so much scorn that I quickly changed the subject.

  “I have heard that you reside with a chaperone.”

  “Why, yes,” she said before looking toward the foyer. “There she is dear woman.”

  I followed her gaze and had to keep my mouth from dropping open. It was the robust woman with the unnaturally yellow hair from the Inn. She could be perfectly respectable, but she wore a bright orange gown that she was well-nigh bursting from, and a yellow turban was perched atop her yellow hair. She looked like a Thanksgiving decoration. The woman beckoned Miss Clark with the wave of a large hand.

  “Pray, excuse me.” Miss Clark joined her chaperone at the door.

  Edith and I were soon surrounded by a group of young men all on the hunt for a rich bride. Edith’s fortune was larger than my own, but she was so shy around gentlemen, that it took some encouragement for her to choose a partner among all the offers. Thomas arrived, and she gave her hand to him. He was the least threatening to her, as it was well known that Thomas was not in the market for a bride.

  As there were more men than young ladies, I had seven gentlemen vying for my attention. I listened to their witticisms with an air of interest until I heard someone grunt.

  Behind the wall of men, someone’s head was bobbing up and down. When it appeared again, I realized it was Dudley, and he was jumping. The men were holding their shoulders against one another to keep Dudley out of the circle. It was a game with them, but I did not see the humor and was about to say something cutting, when Dudley dropped to his knees and climbed through a gap between one of the men’s legs. My mouth hung open, but I could not help it.

  Creaking and grunting came with Dudley’s ample form that almost did not fit between Henry Clay’s legs. Henry’s arms flapped, and he grabbed onto Ephraim’s arm. Ephraim jerked his arm away and bumped into another man who went sprawling to his side, right onto Mrs. Campbell’s lap.

  She shouted and moaned, while beating him over the head with her fan.

  Dudley was immune to everything going on around him as he knelt before me. I was covering my mouth with my hands as my laughter bubbled forth. I was not sure what I should be feeling, for hilarity, mortification, and endearment all surged within me. Dudley had committed a social blunder, but hearing his corset creaking was too hilarious, and having him create such a scene to approach me was oddly touching. When he begged me to dance with him, I agreed so I could get him away from the other men before they started a brawl. I helped him to his feet and took his proffered arm.

  After our dance had ended, Dudley and I were standing together across the room from the men casting Dudley scathing looks, when Jack joined us.

  “What have I missed?” he asked, but I only shook my head, unable to tell him all lest it made me laugh again.

  Jack’s eyes settled on Hannah where she stood across the room. I watched as she tossed him a saucy smile; one meant to entice.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked near to his ear.

  “Deceit springs from within whilst lies touch her lips, shadows dance within her eyes, no mercy can eclipse.”

  I glanced toward Hannah again. She was smiling up at Nicholas Mansfield, and it all started to piece together
.

  Hannah was not only some self absorbed society minx; she was in some way connected to Nicholas and I was sure, Levitas.

  Chapter 8

  Bess