Phantoms In Philadelphia (5 page)

I agreed and watched as he said goodbye to Bess. His
hand held hers longer than necessary, but there was nothing in her
eyes that said she felt more for him than friendship. Frederick
pulled away, gave a final wave, and left the house.

Bess leaned her head against my shoulder. “Finally,
we go home.”

Jack

T
he
journey to Philadelphia took us five days, since we halted in
Baltimore for a short sojourn before traveling on to Philadelphia.
We stopped a few miles outside Philadelphia at a farmhouse to
exchange our horses for our family carriage. The house belonged to
a faithful friend of the Phantoms and he would see to it that our
horses were transported to the stable in town that housed them. We
also said goodbye to Levi at the farm, since he was the only member
of our team who did not work as a servant in our house. It would
have been too complicated with his last name being Martin. Martin
was a common name in Philadelphia so his having our surname did not
garner attention because we made sure never to be seen together
unless in our Phantom guise.

Our trunks that had been kept for us by the farmer
were opened, and our raiment changed before climbing into the
carriage. Before we set off, Leo reminded me that I was out of my
favorite cognac.

After I had thanked him, he went to inform Jericho,
who was to drive the carriage, where we were to go. There was a
small Inn on the outskirts of Philadelphia that was known for their
fine liquor. It was imperative that we stop for if my society
friends called upon me they would expect to find only the best
liquor in my house.

Once we were on our way, Bess opened the packet that
she had received from Pierre. She pulled out a letter and handed me
a small book.

There was a crest stamped on the front of the black
leather book; that of a pyramid with a lightning bolt through the
center and vines of ivy surrounding the pyramid. The same crest was
on the first page. As I went through page by page, I ascertained
that the book was all about Levitas.

“Listen to this,” Bess said, “Levitas is a secret
society that was created to be a safe haven for gentlemen; a place
they can go to discuss topics that some might consider
treasonous.”

The treasonous part I could well believe. I went
back to looking over the book, and when I was halfway through, I
read something that interested me. It said that their meetings were
always held at nine strikes of the clock. There were handshakes
listed, each with a different meaning; then I came upon a drawing.
It was a chalice with what appeared to be some kind of crest on the
side. I showed it to Leo, Bess, and Mariah.

“It says in the letter that the
artifacts are the sacred pieces of the Holy Order. They hold an
unknown power, but only the
sun
can wield their power. It is why the artifacts are
never kept in the same place. For safety.”

Besides the chalice, there was a sword, a dagger, a
ring with a raised stone, a small book much like the one I was
reading, and an odd shaped box with symbols all over it.

“Is this the black box?” I showed the drawing to
Bess.

Bess nodded. “Pierre said that Levitas was after Ma
belle, and Jeremiah said to retrieve the box and give it to Ma
belle.”

As I turned the page, I sucked in a quick breath.
Bess leaned over and looked at the page. She mumbled a curse.

There was a sketch on the page of the final
artifact; a ring in the shape of a coiled snake.

“Could it be the same one you have?” I asked Bess,
since she had taken such a ring from the hand of her attacker two
years ago.

She slowly shook her head. “The eyes are different.
See how these are raised like gemstones, mine are smooth gold.”

So those men who had attacked Bess and murdered Ben
worked for Levitas did they. At least we now had a general idea of
who was responsible. One thing was plain; Ma belle was the
connecting component.

We reached the Inn, and I pulled my eyes away from
the book. The building was a two story brick structure with a
small, wooden sign hanging over the door, but I knew that the
outside belied the ambience to be found within its walls. We had
spent many evenings in that hostelry while on missions. Leo left
the carriage to go purchase my cognac.

“Does the letter say anything else?” I asked as I
closed the book.

Bess stared at the letter for a moment and then
refolded it. “A name only. Nicholas Mansfield. He must be in some
way connected to Levitas. He may be their leader.”

“So, we find this Nicholas Mansfield, and we find
Levitas.”

“Or Ma belle,” Bess said. I gave her the book, and
she slipped both back into the packet.

Bess and Mariah started chatting about dress
fashions, so I stared out my carriage window in time to see Leo
reaching the front door of the Inn. It suddenly swung open, and he
nearly collided with a young woman as she was stepping out. She
smiled, and something within me stirred, like a sudden wind. I
leaned closer to the window to gain a better view.

She looked to be near my age. By the expensive cut
to her clothing and the tilt to her chin, I would guess her to be a
lady of breeding. What, then, was she doing at an Inn alone? She
walked toward a black carriage across the yard, lifting her navy
skirt and revealing a pair of small boot-clad feet. The door to the
Inn flew open again, and my eyes shifted to it as a young man
stormed out of the building, charging toward the young woman’s
carriage. My head struck the glass of the window as I craned my
neck to watch. He grabbed her arm as she was climbing into her
carriage. I could hear his voice shouting even through our closed
carriage door. Their argument was none of my business; she could
have been his wife, but I could not pull my eyes away. The man
pulled the young woman away from the carriage and threw her across
the yard, pointing at the Inn. She stumbled and dropped in a heap
against the dirt.

A deep anger that I had not felt in a long time
overtook me, and I snapped. Grabbing my walking stick, I threw open
the carriage door, leapt to the ground, and ran to where the man
was towering over the young woman as she knelt on the dirt.

“You there, I say halt!” I shouted
as I ran forward, placing myself between the woman and the
man.

He had to be at least six feet tall, a good six
inches above me, because I found myself looking up into his thin,
long face, which closely resembled the face of a horse. Patches of
yellow hair stuck out at all angles from under his hat, and small,
protuberant, blue eyes stared down at me. His mouth was hanging
open like a fish for a moment before he again found his tongue.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

“That is what I would like to know. I shall not
allow you to mistreat this lady,” I said and turned, holding my
hand down to her.

My eyes locked on hers, and the angry man, the dusty
yard, the gawking eyes of the stable boys all faded away. My breath
felt labored; I could not move, her eyes were holding me
transfixed. My heart started to beat as if it were playing along to
a highland reel.

Her eyes that were between a blue
and a purple reminded me of my mother’s favorite flower, the
hyacinth, and I suddenly understood her liking for it. The young
woman’s oval face, the color of purest ivory and untouched by
blemish, was framed by a bonnet that covered her hair, but a few
strands fell across her smooth brow. The corners of my lips creased
into a smile. Two years past, I would have called her hair red, but
a mission in which Bess had donned a red wig, she taught me that
the color was auburn, not
red
.

Her small eyebrows lifted, causing me to snap out of
my stupefaction.

“Allow me to assist you to stand.” As my fingers
wrapped around her gloved hand, our hands fit as if they were two
pieces of the same puzzle, finally finding their match. I shoved
such ridiculous thoughts away and helped her to stand.

The man again demanded my attention. With a growl,
he grabbed the young woman’s wrist, jerking her hand from mine.

The dog!
I
struck his arm hard enough to bruise it with the ball of my walking
stick. He leapt back rubbing the offended place.

When he took a step forward and grabbed the front of
my coat, I lost my will to remain calm. I threw my fist against his
jaw with enough force to make him stumble back.

With a hand against his jaw, he shouted, “Do you
know who I am?”

“No. Nor do I wish to know a man who mistreats
women. You, sir, are a pestilence, and I shall not stand by as you
force your plagued attentions upon this lady.”

The man sputtered in rage. “Those are fighting
words, boy,” he said, as if he were so many years older than I.
“You had better be able to stand behind them.”

“When and where you please,” I replied, my gaze
never wavering.

The man looked like he wanted to murder me. We held
each other’s gaze for a few warring moments; then his eyes
fluttered to something beyond me. He slammed his mouth shut, took a
step back, and turned his eyes upon the woman, snarling.

“We shall see what your guardian has to say about
this.” He cast me a look of pure hatred before stomping to where
his horse was tied. He rode wildly out of the yard leaving a cloud
of dirt behind.

There.
I
tossed my stick lightly in the air, caught it and turned to look at
the young woman beside me. I was not a tall man by any means, but
the beauty smiling at me was even shorter than I.

She held out her hand. “Thank you, sir, for your
gallant rescue.” Her voice was sweet, musical.

“It was a pleasure, madam,” I said as I bowed,
raising the back of her gloved hand to my lips.

The feeling that I had met her before was strong.
She reminded me of a girl that I met once three years ago, but I
knew that she could not be the same girl. I shoved the painful
memory away as the door to the Inn opened and a stout woman bustled
out, exclaiming in a high pitch.

“My dear! I saw the entire episode from the window,
but that fool of an innkeeper would do nothing but say that the
young gentleman could handle himself.”

The stout woman looked me over like she was
appraising a horse at the auction house. I watched her, my mouth in
a full smile. She gave me a nod before walking toward the black
carriage. I exchanged an amused glance with the young beauty beside
me.

“I do believe you have found favor
with Martha,” the young lady said softly, and I wanted to say that
it was she and not her companion whom I wished to please, but I
kept my mouth shut—for once.

Her companion cleared her throat loudly from inside
the carriage, so I offered my arm to the young woman. I helped her
into her carriage, and once she was seated, she leaned her head out
of the open door. Her eyes again held me mesmerized.

“I shall remember you, sir, and what you have done
for me this day. That I promise you.”

My smile was wide as I closed the door and stepped
back. As the carriage moved away, I stared after it for a moment,
then my eyes slid shut in exasperation. I had forgotten to ask her
name.

I stared where her carriage had been sitting, and my
smile slowly returned. I would have to find her. I was a spy, after
all. Turning toward my carriage, I halted. Bess and Mariah were
leaning half out of the carriage; Leo was standing beside the door,
and Jericho was smiling at me from the box, a pistol resting in his
hand. That must have been what made the vile man leave without
trying to fight me.

When we were again on our way, Bess nudged me with
her shoulder. “How your poetical friends would stare if they saw
what we witnessed.”

A groan escaped me. My cover when at home was that
of a devout poet who engaged in nothing but literary pursuits and
was destined for the church. So far it had served me well, but Bess
was correct; if my fellow poets had seen my actions in going to the
beauty’s rescue, they would most definitely stare.

Bess

26 May 1816

Philadelphia

W
hen we
arrived home, mingled feelings of resignation and contentment
washed over me. The knocker was on the door. It could only mean one
thing; our mother was home.

When my father moved us to Philadelphia, he
accomplished a great feat. Suddenly, we were an affluent family
living in a mansion and accepted into the elegant circles of
society. Jack and I never learned how our father accomplished such
a coup, but William Martin was a man of many talents and even more
lies. What was truly shocking was finding out that he indeed had a
fortune, and I was an heiress.

When we entered the foyer of our house, it was in a
bustle. Maids that I did not know were cleaning, men in their
shirtsleeves were carrying furniture from the drawing room, and our
mother’s housekeeper was standing amongst it all issuing orders in
an authoritative voice. I removed my gloves and bonnet, tossing
them on a side table as I looked around. I had only moved back into
this house three months ago, a few days before my mother left for
Savannah. Shortly after that, Jack and I had left for a mission in
Washington, but I knew enough about my mother to know when she was
up to something. Jack was speaking with Arnaud, our mother’s French
butler, when a gasp came from the stairs. Standing on the landing
was my mother. A white lace cap sat jauntily over her black hair.
Her blue eyes shimmered with tears as she lifted her skirts,
floated down the stairs, and wrapped her arms around us the moment
she reached us.