Phantoms In Philadelphia (34 page)

“Ephraim is in the ballroom and most eager to claim
you for the first two dances.” She added with a sly smile, “If you
are not otherwise engaged.”

Forcing myself to remain calm, I fixed a smile on my
lips, but said nothing to commit myself. Jack whisked me away
toward the double doors that led into a long ballroom.

Mr. Knowlton had built the room for his wife during
the war. Many people were outraged at the expense while our nation
was at war, but they have retracted their indignation since the war
ended, and Mrs. Knowlton has put the room to good use.

As we stepped onto the polished floor, eyes from
every direction moved toward us. I inhaled deeply. News had spread
about our new fortunes. If only they knew that when my father
started to climb the social ladder, carrying his family with him,
he had little wealth and was far from a gentleman. I never learned
where my father attained his wealth. All I knew was that we were
wealthy overnight, or so it seemed to me. Asking my mother about it
did no good for she refused to speak of it. Another secret.

Jack smiled broadly; the cleft in his chin more
pronounced. He was enjoying the attention.

Edith Harvey was among the young ladies where Jack
was leading me. When I joined them, they bombarded me with excited
or envious questions about my mother’s new fortune.

A lovely blonde smiled knowingly. “You will not long
remain unmarried if Ephraim Knowlton has his way.”

Following her gaze, I turned to see
Ephraim making his way toward me. Jack had moved away to join
Dudley, but he was closer to me than the door out of the ball room.
I mumbled something and moved as quickly as I could toward Jack.
When Jack noticed who was pursuing me, his lips thinned. I tucked
my hand into the crook of his arm, and he patted it reassuringly,
but Dudley was the one to come to my rescue.

“Miss Martin, heaven must have fought a great battle
with earth and lost, for heaven would never give up its greatest
angel without a fight.”

Jack chuckled, and I bit my lip to refrain from
laughing. The potato sack came to mind. “You flatter me, Mr.
Stanton.”

“Nay, it is the truth, I assure you.” Dudley kissed
the back of my hand and raised his hopeful gaze to me. “If you are
not otherwise engaged, may I hope to claim the first two
dances?”

I had accepted a moment before Ephraim appeared at
my side. Ephraim was not pleased to learn that I was going to dance
with Dudley, but he requested the dance after, and I had no choice
but to comply. The entrance of Mr. and Mrs. Knowlton signaled the
dance to begin. As I moved along the dance with Dudley, he was more
animated than usual. When he pointed out that Jack was dancing with
Edith, I was relieved. I hoped that she could take his mind off
someone else.

After the first three dances had ended, I detached
myself and went through the foyer to the little hall that led to
the ladies’ room, but also to the back stairs. Lifting my pink
skirt, I moved up the small staircase to the second floor and from
there to the fourth door.

Looking to my right then left, no one was upstairs,
so I slowly turned the door handle. If anyone was in the room, I
was ready to claim to be looking for the retiring room, but to my
relief, the room was empty.

A branch of candles on a writing desk were letting
off enough light to see. Silently closing the door behind me, I
scanned Mr. Knowlton’s bedchamber, which included a four poster bed
with red silk hangings, the writing desk, a tall wardrobe, and a
dressing table. Bottles and boxes were scattered over the dressing
table, as if Mr. Knowlton’s manservant did not have time to clean
up after his master was attired for the ball. What it meant for me,
was that I must hurry in my search for the man would return to
clean up the mess.

Somewhere in the room was the fourth artifact, a
book of incantations. Leo had told me to search the left wall. How
he knew such a thing, I did not ask. Leo was a man of many
mysteries and his knowledge knew no bounds.

Tapestries hung in sections, but midway along the
wall was a decorative wood border of lions between scrollwork. I
started in the corner, running my fingers along that scrollwork,
pushing and pulling each lion. When I was about to reach the other
corner, one moved. My lips curved up as my fingers pressed the lion
into the wall. A grinding noise sounded before a part of the wall
moved. Grabbing the branch of candles from the desk, the light
illuminated the secret room. Closet would be a better description.
Covering the three walls was a mural of angels arranged on clouds.
The only furniture was a table that held a golden goblet, a golden
candlestick, and a small carved bowl. My breath fluttered out in
anxious excitement. A small leather book was between the bowl and
candlestick. My finger ran over a golden stamp in the center of the
book. I hated that emblem of the pyramid with a lightning bolt
through the center and vines of ivy forming half circles around the
pyramid. Underneath were Greek letters forming four words.

My Greek was rough, but I knew what
it meant.
Through lightning we
strike.

Taking the book, I let myself out of the secret
room. Turning a scroll on the border slid the wall back into place.
Once the candles were returned to the desk, and a final look was
taken of the room, I walked to the door. My hand was but inches
from the handle when it turned. My heart leapt, then I followed,
jumping toward the wall as the door pushed open.

Let it go. Let it go.
My mind begged the hand that was opening the door
not to push it all the way. My breath held until the door was
released, then it silently leaked out. My hands were shaking. If I
were to be caught in Mr. Knowlton’s bedchamber, it would be beyond
scandalous; it would be deadly. Mr. Knowlton would not hesitate to
give me over to Richard. The knowledge of that sent fear jolting
through me.

Mr. Knowlton walked over to his writing desk. The
door blocked him, but his shadow on the carpet told me where he was
standing.

A drawer pulled open, and Mr. Knowlton spoke, “Why
tonight of all nights? This night is too important, and my presence
is required downstairs.”

Whoever he was speaking to was on the other side of
the door and said nothing.

“My ring of power,” Mr. Knowlton said as a drawer
slammed shut. He turned, but not toward the door. He moved to the
branch of candles. He stared for a moment.

I’m discovered. It’s over.
I started inching my skirt up so I could reach the
dagger strapped to my leg.

Mr. Knowlton shook his head. Walking to the door, he
demanded of his companion, “Who is the cur that has voiced his
doubts of me?”

The door slammed shut before I could hear the reply.
My shoulders sagged forward. Beads of perspiration were racing down
my neck and under my dress. That was too close. While waiting a few
minutes for my heart to settle, I tucked the book against my leg
where my garter was holding my dagger. Once I felt that it was
secured, I slowly opened the door to a crack. No one was in the
hall, so I hurried from the room and walked down the hall toward
the main landing. My mind was going over the guests present and who
Mr. Knowlton could have been speaking to when I rounded the corner.
Voices from the landing forced me to retreat back into the hall.
The landing split in two leading to two separate halls, the family
quarters and the guests’. It would not do to be seen coming from
the family hall. I could not see the people, but immediately
recognized Jack’s voice.

“I have missed you,” he said, soulfully.

“Indeed? How much?” My heart sank. It was
Guinevere.

“So much that I could not help but pick up this
small trinket for you.”

Trinket?
Why was Jack giving the wicked girl anything? I peeped around
the corner as Jack raised a ring for Guinevere’s inspection. I was
unsure if it was she or I who inhaled sharply. Pressing myself
against the wall again, my eyes closed as pain assaulted every part
of me, beginning in my heart.

“It will never compare to your beauty, but I hope
that when you look upon it, you will always remember me.” Jack
sounded so sincere, so in love, that tears sprang to my eyes, and I
had to dab at the corners of my eyes with my gloved fingers.

He had not told me. He and Guinevere were obviously
more to each other than he had let on, even though he knew who and
what she was.

“I do remember that you wanted to keep our betrothal
between us, but I thought that you could wear this on your right
hand until the time comes that you allow me to inform the world
that you belong to me.”

Sweet Saints! Betrothed!
I inhaled a shallow breath
and peeped around the corner again. They were paying no heed
to their surroundings as Guinevere pulled a ring from her right
hand and moved it to her left. It was a dark gold, almost bronze,
color and the face looked like an ornately carved star with six
points. Raised above the star was a circular shape with a peridot
and diamond studs.

“I have never before seen such a ring,” Jack
said.

She smiled. “It is a family heirloom.” She held out
her right hand, and Jack slid his ring onto her finger. It was such
an intimate moment that I felt almost regretful for witnessing.
Almost.

“Will you dance with me?" Jack asked.

“It will give rise to some talk.”

Laying a hand over his heart, he said, “I listen,
not to the tongues of men, but to my heart which speaks in the
truest form.”

She smiled, tucking her hand into the crook of his
arm. “Yes, John, let us dance.”

They disappeared down the stairs,
and I suddenly
felt cold. My own brother,
my closest ally, my most trusted confidant, was keeping the
greatest secret from me. A part of me wanted to believe that he was
doing it as a stratagem, a deep game that would in the end bring
her to the justice that she deserved, but it was not so. I
heard
him. He was a man in love, which
meant that he was a danger to the Phantoms and to our mission. He
would never be able to surrender her.

Leaving the hall, I went down the
stairs in a fog of pain and confusion. Jack and Guinevere were
dancing together in the ballroom. Seeing them, smiling with love
unmistakably in their eyes, made my heart cramp and my head ache.
Dudley was coming toward me, but I could not speak with him, or
with anyone. I needed space—and time.

Moving along the side of the ballroom, I reached one
of the doors that led outside. Pushing the large drapery aside, I
slipped through the door, unnoticed and undisturbed.

The night air was cool, much cooler than ever I
remembered in the middle of July. Sitting upon one of the stone
benches built into the terrace, I sucked in the cool air until my
lungs burned.

Not two minutes passed, before I sensed that I was
not alone. Looking toward the door, there was a man there, watching
me. When he stepped forward, my back stiffened.

“This is a fortunate chance,” he said.

“What do you want, Mr.
Knowlton?”

Ephraim was an annoyance, but he presented no
threat.

“Why, Elizabeth, I do declare that
you are not happy to see me, when you were the one who asked me to
meet you here.”

“I did no such thing!” The man was surely daft.

“Not with words, dearest, but with your eyes.”

He
was
daft. I had not seen him since
our dance an hour past.

As calmly as I could, I informed him, “You are
mistaken in whatever you thought you saw. I would no more send you
messages than I would hold a viper against my face.”

He laughed boisterously, giving me the distinct
impression that he was drunk. A lanky, daft drunk. He dropped to
his knees before me and took my hands. For a drunkard, he had an
alarmingly strong grip. “My dearest heart, you must marry me. I
will not allow you to deny me.”

“I am not your dearest anything.” I tried to pull my
hands away, but he gripped them tighter, causing me to wince. “You
are hurting my hands.”

“Unhand my sister, you fiend!” Jack was standing at
the door with his hands clenched at his sides. Ephraim grunted, but
released me. He and I stood at the same time, and I brushed past
him, moving to stand beside Jack.

“This does not concern you,
Martin
,” Ephraim said as
he swayed.

“You are in the wrong. What concerns my sister
concerns me.” Jack took a step forward, his intent clear, but I
grabbed his arm. “Let me recite the poet...” Jack said instead.

Ephraim held up a hand. “Please, none of your
poetry, John.” He looked toward the window. “I see Mr. Monroe has
arrived. I must greet him.” Ephraim moved toward the door, and we
stepped aside.

After Ephraim was gone, Jack led me back into the
ballroom, briefly pressing my hand before moving away. James Monroe
was across the room speaking with Mrs. Knowlton. When I reached
them, I listened while he spoke, remaining at his side, watching
everything, while Jack was keeping Guinevere occupied.

Guinevere’s eyes were watching Mr. Monroe rather
intently until Thomas swept her away from Jack and into the line of
dancers. Jack stood against the wall and watched Guinevere’s every
move. After Thomas, she passed on to Dudley. Halfway through the
dance, Richard nodded toward Guinevere. It was only a brief
inclination of his head, but it perturbed me. My eyes sprang to
Guinevere, but she was laughing at something Dudley said and did
not look like she noticed. Hope that she had not filled my head,
but my heart told me that, of course she saw Richard’s sign, for
she was, after all, the white phantom. They must have set up a
second plan, should the assassins not accomplish their task.
Richard whisked Mr. Monroe off to the dining parlor, and I
followed.