The Charleston Chase (Phantom Knights Book 2) Page 22

  Harvey sat on the bed beside me. “It was always in your best interest, Elizabeth,” Harvey said, his voice soft, “as is this.” He pulled the black cloth from his pocket and for the first time since being captured, I felt real fear. My heart was beating frantically as he placed the cloth on my head, but held it still at my forehead. “Your brother will come for you, but do not deceive yourself that he will rescue you from your fate. I have plans for John.”

  He covered me in darkness and left me alone.

  Chapter 21

  Jack

  Sam and I had chased Levi all over the city until we had lost him on foot in the bustle of a slave auction at the marketplace. I wanted to keep searching, but Sam wanted to return to his house to check on Bess and Charlotte, so I reluctantly agreed. When Guinevere and I married, I would have her surrender Levi to me. If she would not, then I would demand that Levi disappear, never attempting to contact or attack any of the Phantoms ever again; not that there were Phantoms any longer.

  When we arrived at Sam’s house, Char was there to greet us, but Bess was not.

  Char stood with her hands on her slender hips and a fiery passion covering her face. “She charged after Miss White—only it was not Miss White because she had red hair. Bess ordered me to remain in the house until she returned but she has not.”

  Sam stomped into his book room, and I followed slower, trying to fight what my mind was telling me, that Guinevere had again betrayed me. I would not believe it.

  “Sfære af lys is gone,” Sam said.

  “What does this mean, Sam?” Charlotte said.

  Sam looked at me, and I saw the determination on his face, like it had been on Bess’s when she told me she would never stand silently by while I married Guinevere. Sam was holding Guinevere responsible, not that I blamed him if she did steal the black box. I knew that I could not save Guinevere, not while her allegiance was to the Holy Order.

  The front door opened, and Rose and Betsy came into the house unannounced. They walked into the book room like two fierce warriors.

  “Sam, what is this we have been hearing about Bess and Miss White galloping through the town and causing all manner of chaos?” Rose demanded.

  Sam glanced at me for a moment and then told them Miss White’s true identity, about the black box, and that Bess had pursued her. Rose clasped a hand against her neck and sat on the seat before Sam’s desk, pale and looking horrified. Her eyes snapped to me. I held her gaze and watched as her blue eyes slowly narrowed. She was placing the blame on me.

  “I do not know where Bess has gone, but you may be sure she will return soon either with Miss White—Clark—whoever she is, or with information about her whereabouts,” Sam said.

  “That is not going to happen, Sam,” Abe said from the doorway. His face and clothes were streaked with soot. “I’ve been at the harbor fighting a fire and there learned that two women had been inside.”

  I gripped the back of a chair, my heart beating painfully, and the sound of blood swishing in my ears.

  Abe glanced at me. “They made it out before the place went up.”

  “Mine?” Sam asked.

  “Harker’s. None of the sailors knew who the ladies were, but said they were real finely dressed. I found Pegasus tied to a post a few buildings down.”

  I leaned over the back of the chair as a pain so potent struck my gut, churning, grinding, and burning me. Harker’s was the warehouse Guinevere, and I had spent the night in. I was a complete fool. I trusted Guinevere. I trusted that she meant what she said; that she would marry me and give up the Holy Order, but history had repeated itself, striking me a cruel blow. Guinevere had turned Bess over to Levitas once before, and I was a saphead to believe she would do any different the second time.

  “They said the dark-haired woman was unconscious, but the other and a man helped her into a carriage then drove away, leaving the fire for the sailors to put out.”

  “Did anyone see which direction they drove?” Rose demanded.

  “One man claims he heard the red-haired woman tell the driver to take them to Moncks Corner.”

  So it was for four days we scoured the small area of Moncks Corner, and the surrounding towns and land, but we found not a trace of Bess or the Holy Order. The town, which Sam said could only be called such because it had more than two businesses, was a two hour ride from Sam’s house. The town had a tribe of Indians settled there, but most of the people were the descendants of Huguenots, who settled there after fleeing France. When Moncks Corner was formed, it had been a trading post, but over the years, it had flourished into a quaint town.

  Sam’s entire team joined us in the search, but not dressed in work clothes. There were several homes and plantations surrounding Moncks Corner, and many of those Rose and Sam knew the owners. It was not that we suspected any of their friends of harboring the Holy Order; it was the possibility that they had buildings on their land that could have been used without their knowledge. Plantation owners possessed so much land, many of them owning thousands of acres, that Sam was convinced of the possibility.

  Sam, Rose, and Charlotte spent hours visiting many different homes while Abe, Leo, Betsy, and I rode around the area searching for any building that appeared suspicious.

  It was not until the fourth day that we were able to search the buildings in Moncks Corner. While Leo went into the tavern to see what he could discover, Betsy and I spent an hour inside the mercantile. We had not been there ten minutes, before I realized she was more than a beautiful face. She had wit and an informed mind. Quick on her feet, she kept the mercantile owners bustling after her while I snuck into the back and searched the storeroom for any doors or hatches that could lead below the building. Since finding the last Holy Order throne room below a mercantile, it was possible that they had many more places like that.

  My muscles strained as I pushed a tall shelf out of the way of a door in the wall. Opening the door, eagerness filling my chest, I stepped through the open doorway. There were four walls, all within reach when I stretched out my arms.

  “Do you make a habit of hiding in broom closets, Mr. Martin?” a deep woman’s voice asked from behind me.

  Spinning around, my jaw dropped. “Martha.”

  She smiled at me and stepped aside as I moved out of the broom closet. “What are you doing here? Where is Guinevere?”

  She clicked her tongue at me. “As to what I am doing here, I followed you here.”

  “Why?” I demanded, feeling as if the world had suddenly tilted, and nothing made sense any longer.

  She huffed and looked as if she wanted to chide me. “You will not find what you are looking for here. Go back to Charleston, Mr. Martin, and wait for my mistress to call upon you.” Martha nodded then walked toward the door to the front of the mercantile, but I jumped forward, blocking her path.

  She sighed, and her head shook from side to side, her expression irritable. “I can see what you are thinking. Miss Clark wanted me to get a note to you, but I thought it better to meet you in person.”

  It still made not a whit of sense to me why either Martha or Guinevere would seek me out. Guinevere was responsible for Bess’s disappearance, and Martha was Guinevere’s companion. “Again I repeat myself. Why?”

  “Your sister did me a good turn. Consider this my repayment. Miss Clark will call upon you either this night or in the morning at the latest. As I said, go back to Charleston, you are wasting your time here.”

  “You could be lying,” I said, watching her face closely.

  “I could also be at home resting my aching feet, but I’m here. Take it as you will.” She nodded again, shoved me out of her way, and left the mercantile.

  When I emerged from the storeroom, Betsy saw me, and soon we left the mercantile, walking toward where we had left our horses. I told her about meeting with Martha, and Betsy looked relieved, clasping her hands together.

  “She will be all right, Mr. Martin,” Betsy said softly.

  Glancing down at
her, for she was a slip of a girl, barely over five feet tall; I saw not pity, but assurance. She was certain of what she said.

  Bess knew how to stay alive, and from what I knew of Abe and Betsy’s past, she knew the same.

  As Phantoms, we had overcome great adversity, and through the trials, we were inclined to do our utmost to make the world a better place for future generations. Dwelling in a free land was a privilege, and it was our duty to protect and nurture our great country.

  “Thank you, Betsy.”

  Since we could not leave the town before we rejoined the others, we walked along the street looking in different shops, but my mind was taking everything in, watching for any sign of trouble. When none came and Betsy convinced me to trust in Martha’s words, I felt lighter.

  Sam joined us after noon, appearing out of sorts. When he climbed out of his saddle, he was scowling. “If one more matchmaking mother throws her daughter at me...”

  Betsy appeared worried, but I laughed. “Had a full morning, Sam?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I am of the mind that the next house I visit you will attend with me, where not only are there twins of marriageable age, but a determined mama.”

  “Does she wear gowns of puce satin and high turbans?” I looked down at Betsy in mock horror. “They always do, you know, those matchmaking mamas.”

  “You laugh now, Jack, but it will be bellows to mend with you when you become a tenant for life to a woman whose mother is a rattlepate.”

  “Boot is on the other leg, my friend,” I replied jovially.

  “I must disagree with you, Mr. Martin, for I have met your mother,” Betsy said calmly.

  Laughter filled the air from me at Sam’s wide eyes and gaping mouth.

  “Mr. Mason!” A man came toward us from the tavern that was two buildings down from where we stood.

  Sam’s brows puckered at the voice like he did not want to see that person, but he turned toward the caller.

  “Mr. Marx.” Sam said it in the way of an accusation, but the man only smiled.

  Mr. Marx glanced at me as he stepped toward us.

  “Mr. Marx, allow me to present Mr. John Martin,” Sam said.

  “You are Miss Martin’s brother? She has spoken of you much.”

  “You know my sister, do you?” I asked, watching where Mr. Marx looked when he spoke, for where his eyes rested told a story all its own.

  “Miss Martin and I have become friends you might say,” he said, holding my gaze, neither looking to the right or the left.

  Sam mumbled something that only I could hear. It sounded like loose screw and damned hum.

  He glanced at Sam, smiling like he had beaten Sam at a game. “I was hoping to discover when she means to return to town.”

  “What do you mean?” Sam’s voice was like a snap of a whip.

  Mr. Marx’s head tilted to the side a little; he was staring at Sam as if Sam was some museum curiosity. “Why, that Mrs. Eldridge told me that Miss Martin has gone into the country with her brother Levi to visit friends.”

  Sam’s mood was quickly dwindling, so I replied, “She should be returned within a week.”

  “Then I shall call upon her then,” he said, and his accent was stronger than it had been. It sparked a familiar note in my mind, but I could not place it.

  He tugged down on his sleeves like some kind of dandy. There was a white band on his wrist. “Well, I must be off. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Martin.” He inclined his head to Sam and set off toward the tavern.

  “Always pitching the gammon that one,” Sam said.

  Betsy was biting her lip, trying to keep from laughing. I winked at her before telling Sam what we had learned. He was as skeptical as I had been, but when Betsy pointed out that it meant he would have to endure no more matchmaking mamas, he breathed a sigh of relief and voted for home. Abe and Leo were walking toward us, so Betsy went to meet them.

  “You have a treasure in that one, Sam,” I said, watching Betsy.

  “I concur. She certainly has the determination of her father,” Sam said abstractedly.

  As I stared at him with a lift of my brows, he said, “Have you not yet guessed? It was not for their skills alone that Abe and Betsy were made Phantoms.”

  Stepping back, I gawked as it fit together in my mind. “George is their sire.”

  “Yes, though they do not like to speak of it. George never married because he loved their mother, but she was one of his slaves. He was going through the procedure of having her freed when she died during an epidemic. Soon after that he left for Philadelphia and sold the plantation to me, along with my own cousins.”

  Shaking my head in stupefaction, I did not know what to think of George. I was not disgusted, on the contrary I understood how it could happen, but to abandon freeing his own children, well that did not seem right to me.

  “George financed all of the slaves being freed, Jack,” Sam said quietly as the others were walking toward us. “He did the best he could in his grief consumed state.”

  Nodding, for that was all I could think to do, I walked with the others toward our horses.

  ***

  It was dark by the time we arrived back at Sam’s house. The women went home, but Sam and I spent another four hours in his book room, waiting for Guinevere and looking over maps. When Sam fell asleep in his chair, and there was no sight of Guinevere, I went up to bed.

  Only six hours had passed, and the sun had yet to rise when I awoke and jumped up to dress for the day. It was the sixth day since Bess had been taken, and my hope was great that it would be the last for I meant to get her back. Entering the book room, Sam was standing over the maps, looking as if he had not left the room at all. He was wearing the same clothing from the day before, all rumpled, and his hair looked as if he had been pulling it.

  “Have you left this room?”

  Sam glanced up from the map then back down. “Six days, Jack. She has been gone for six days.”

  His comment grated on my nerves. As if I did not know as well as he. She was my sister! I felt her absence like a piece of myself was missing. I retorted, “You should know that when this is over I mean to see my sister safely established, and if that means removing her from Charleston, so be it.”

  Sam looked up from the map. His face was a blank mask. “You should know that I love your sister and mean to marry her with all possible haste.”

  Staring at him, his serious expression did not change. He was in earnest. No request for my permission, no pleasantries, only facts. “Has she agreed then?”

  Sam looked back to the map. “Not yet, but you need not fear that she will refuse me. She loves me.”

  His words held so much conviction that a relieved laugh surged out of me. Bess being captured was not humorous in the least, but thinking about the two of them living together was. There would be some mighty rows in their house, but I believed that they would make their marriage work. Bess needed a strong man who would not balk when she spoke of her past, and demanded her own way.

  “My sister will require my mother to be present, so you must await her return.”

  “I would expect nothing less,” Sam said, “but first we must find Bess.”

  “We will, today, I’m sure of it,” I looked him over, “but first you should see to your appearance. You look foxed.”

  Sam cast me a rueful smile as he left the book room. Glancing around the room and seeing the remains of our search in the maps that were spread over every available surface, I had to get out of the house so I could think. Sam loved my sister, but he never told her, so his need to find her was great. I could not fault him for that, for my own need to find Bess was nearly making me mad.

  It was as if Sam’s walled garden had been designed as a place to collect one’s thoughts, or for stolen moments during a party. At any other time, I would have admired the different flowers and the beauty in the old, stone walls, but not when my sister was missing. There was a stone bench against the far brick wa
ll, placed in the shadow of a large tree. That was where I sat, leaning my head against the bricks and loosening my white cravat. A breeze blew through the tree, causing the branches to dance. I closed my eyes.

  Where are you Bess? Where is Guinevere?

  Martha said she would come by the morning at the latest, but what if it was a trick? What if they wanted us to stop searching? What if we had been close and gave up on the words of a woman who was known for her deceptions? That was not entirely fair. Guinevere may not have been forthright, but everything she had ever told me had a reason. Like the Holy Order being at that Mercantile in Baltimore. It had been true, only I had arrived too late. There had to be a piece we were missing. Or, I was a complete fool and was allowing my love for Guinevere to blind me to her true self. I did not want to believe that of her, but the conviction was strong.

  She only ever told half truths, like being Richard’s ward. Yes, he had taken her as his ward, but only because the Holy Order demanded it. She had been sent to Philadelphia to destroy Levitas. Her family had died when she was young, and she had been left with a guardian. When he died, she was placed in the hands of the Holy Order. She had so many secrets that I did not know how she could be so strong.

  “Jack,” Guinevere’s voice whispered.

  My eyes opened, and my back straightened.

  She stood not three feet away from me. She was wearing her white dress and white cloak, but her hair was blonde. She was clasping her hands before her, her face exceedingly vulnerable.

  For the first time since I had met her last May, I was reminded that she truly was only eighteen. She was not masking her emotions as usual; they played across her face. She was unsure, yet determined. It was the fear that I could see by her trembling lip, which she bit, and the shaking of her hands that sent a fury of protectiveness and love jolting through me. I said nothing; though there was much I wanted to say. I had to be strong in the event that this was all a trick.