Phantoms In Philadelphia (22 page)

Ephraim Knowlton was standing at the entrance to the
garden. He greeted Edith and I in his usual style, which was a
haughty smile, then a roving eye. He was considered handsome by
some, Edith among those, but he was not the kind of man who
attracted me. He was tall but lanky, and he carried himself as if
he ruled the world. Edith and I passed along as Jack and Guinevere
came up behind us.

When I saw Andrew ahead, the flutters started, until
I noticed that he was speaking with Hannah. When his eyes met mine
he excused himself from Hannah and came toward me, and that brought
the flutters back full force.

“Here you are. I have been looking for you,” he
said. The glance he gave me warmed me all over.

Edith excused herself, and Andrew and I took a turn
around the lawn. As we walked, he told me about his home in
Virginia. His father owned a rather large plot of land that had the
family’s home, a farm, and many cabins for the servants. He made
sure that I understood that the Knowlton’s home was nothing in
comparison. I knew he was trying to impress me, but his holdings
were not nearly as important as the man himself.

When I was not with him, I had a
hard time coming up with exactly what it was about him that put him
above every other man in my estimation. His looks were certainly
pleasing, and his manners were impeccable. He had both good
breeding and fortune, but strip all that away, and what would be
left? That was what I was trying to discover while keeping my
tumbled
feelings in check. If I were not
cautious, his marked attention to me would go to my head. Having
the attention of the nephew of the President was a great honor, but
what confused me was, what had I done to deserve his attentions. I
was no more interesting, while in society, than Edith, and if looks
were what he wanted, Hannah was by far superior, or Guinevere and
her vivacity that drew men to her wherever she went. I was
analytical, and at times, it was a curse.

Jack and Guinevere were walking toward us, and I
felt Andrew stiffen beside me, but when I looked up at his face, he
was smiling in welcome.

“Bess, we are to play blind man’s bluff. Do come,”
Edith called out to me from the middle of a group of girls.

There was a patch of the lawn that had been made
into a circle by small poles with colorful ribbons hanging from
them. Edith and the other young ladies all walked toward it.

I captured Guinevere’s arm, hooking mine around it.
“Do come, for I will need your support if I am to play such a
game.”

Guinevere’s face softened, and I knew she was
relieved. Why the girls excluded her from everything I did not
know, but I would not leave her out. We excused ourselves from the
gentlemen, and when we joined the other girls, they were laughing
and talking.

“Mr. Martin is so handsome,” one of the girls said
as she gazed worshipfully at my brother.

She was correct in her estimation that Jack was
handsome. His strong, narrow face gave him distinction, and his
thick, black hair was envied by many of the women, while his blue
eyes that could change like the weather were unmatched. Mariah once
told me that when you look at Jack, you do not remember his lack of
inches.

The girl glanced at me. “I envy you, Elizabeth,” she
sighed as she looked over her shoulder at Jack again, “getting to
live with him.”

“You would not envy me so much if you had to listen
to his poetry recitations all the day long.”

“He could recite poetry to me
anytime,” a blonde said, ending with a dreamy sigh. That was
another thing. They sighed when they looked at him, as if he was
something out of their reach—which, of course, he was.

“Mr. Martin has much to recommend him beyond his
good looks,” Edith replied. “You should see if you can lure him in,
Sarah.”

“Leaving Ephraim Knowlton to you. You sly girl, I
know what you are about.” They laughed as they walked between the
poles and picked up the sash that would be tied around someone’s
eyes.

Guinevere said nothing
during this sally of romantic nonsense, nor did
she look as if their words bothered her. Why would they? She was
the only woman Jack showed a partiality for.

We walked toward the circle, but not before I heard
Ephraim say that the men would bowl.

“To where do you go, Dudley?” Thomas called out, and
we stopped to look back. Dudley was following us to the circle.

“Will you play a ladies’ game?” another called
out.

“Yes, I shall.” Dudley stopped next to me, never
influenced by the opinions of others, and offered his arm. “Fools,
the lot of them, but no matter, I mean to enjoy myself
prodigiously.” He offered his other arm to Guinevere, and we walked
together toward the circle where Edith was being blindfolded. Once
the yellow sash was tied over her eyes, the game began.

As Edith tried to catch hold of someone, the others
would tap her on the shoulder then dart away from her outstretched
arms. Some would give her a light shove toward someone else. If she
stepped too close to the poles, everyone would yell ‘Pole’ and
Edith would stop and turn about. Taunting shouts of ‘Buffy’ were
called to her, as she was the buffy until she found someone and
guessed their identity correctly.

Hannah bumped Edith directly into Dudley, and she
caught herself against his chest. Once her hand touched his
startlingly large cravat, she yelled out, “Mr. Stanton!”

“By jove! However did you guess, Miss Harvey?”

I laughed at Dudley’s earnest
incredulity; poor, dear Dudley. But, Dudley was not so
poor
in his own
estimation;
for, who, among the men-folk at
the picnic, was surrounded by all of the young ladies. No slow top
was Dudley, as his friends sometimes assumed.

The sash was tied around Dudley’s eyes, and Edith
waved several times before his face to make certain he could not
see. She spun him around, tapped on his shoulder, and he set off,
gingerly feeling ahead of him. Being that gentlemen rarely played
such a game, the girls were giggling as they tapped his shoulder or
called to him. He spun around so fast that his feet twisted
together, and he tripped, falling on his backside. The girls were
all shrieks and laughter as they helped him to his feet then set
him off again.

“Buffy! Buffy!”

I was near to one of the poles, nowhere near Dudley,
when he caught Hannah, though not by her own doing. Guinevere had
bumped against Hannah’s back and knocked her right into Dudley.
Guinevere looked at me and winked. I covered my mouth to keep from
laughing aloud.

Dudley’s hands moved over Hannah’s neck and then up
to her cheeks. His thumb ran across her lips, and the girls around
me were near to bursting in their enjoyment. I was watching
Dudley’s face, and his mouth was frowning, but when he had touched
Hannah’s lips, a wistful smile turned up the corners of his
lips.

“Miss Martin!” Dudley
announced
loudly.

Hannah and I were nothing alike,
and she was much shorter than I. Hannah glared at Dudley and
disgustedly pushed him away from her. She left the
circle, as the girls clapped three times to let Dudley know his
guess was incorrect and
that he was still
the Buffy.

“Why, I do say that Stanton has the right idea,”
Thomas said from behind me. I looked over my shoulder at him.

“Care to join the fun?” I asked him.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he replied and stepped into
the circle.

The rest of the men were over at a smooth area of
the lawn that had been specially designed for bowling. I watched
Andrew as he tossed the ball, his coat tightening across his
shoulders, and then my own clothing felt too tight.

Arms wrapped around my waist, and I jumped, my elbow
instinctively connecting hard against my captor’s shoulder. He
grunted.

“Truly, my dear, all in the name of fun,” Dudley
whispered, and I relaxed my tense shoulders.

His hands were on my waist and slowly started up. I
whispered, “Bess.” Dudley had been Buffy long enough anyway.

“Shall I hazard a guess?” Dudley called out for the
sake of the game. Giggles greeted his words. “Miss Martin?” He made
his voice sound unsure, like he was truly guessing.

“Indeed it is,” I said, and Dudley removed the
sash.

Dudley was the one to cover my eyes and spin me,
then give me a light push toward the center of the circle. Girls
giggled all around me, and every time one of them touched me on the
shoulder, I had to force myself not to react. It would not have
done to break one of the girls’ noses or blacken an eye. The
giggles increased though sounding further away, and I moved slowly
around with my hands out before me.

“Buffy! Buffy!” was called from my right. I had
taken three steps in that direction before my hand hit something
solid. I knew it was no female, nor was it Dudley. This man’s
stomach was strong. It could have been Thomas, but I only thought
that for a moment as my hands touched his shoulders that were
broader. I am ashamed to admit that I knew who it was, but I did
not immediately call out his name. My hand felt along the front of
his silky waistcoat and then along his shoulder.

From the giggles that had to have come from outside
the circle, they thought they were playing a trick. Well, I would
give them a good show. My hand touched his smooth cheek, and I knew
he was smiling. He knew that I knew. My breath caught as I chewed
on my bottom lip, trying not to laugh, or sigh.

“Mr. Madison,” I called out and was met with cheers
and laughter. He helped me to remove the sash, and I found myself
looking up into his green eyes that made me think of a forest with
their soft brown flecks. His lips were parted in a half smile, then
slowly his dimples appeared, and I felt myself leaning toward him
as if pulled in by some invisible force. A small choked sound came
from my throat as I quickly stepped back. My face was aflame as I
took a deep breath.

“Very witty,” I called out to my friends who were
outside the circle watching us. Andrew offered his arm, and we left
the circle to take a stroll around the garden.

“I apologize for my friends, Mr. Madison.”

“No need, Miss Martin. I rather enjoyed that game. I
used to play it with my brothers and sisters, but I do not remember
it being so enjoyable.”

My face flushed with more color,
and I could not look at him, but I was gratified. I was never one
given over to
blushing
—
until
I met
Andrew Madison.

As the afternoon turned to evening and the sky above
grew darker, servants lit torches around the lawn, and a large camp
fire was started where Thomas began telling ghost stories.

An hour into the stories, I saw Edith break away
from the group. I touched Andrew’s arm before moving toward
her.

“Oh, Bess,” Edith moaned, “I do not feel well.”

Placing my arm around her shoulders, I moved us
toward the house. I was looking for Jack when Andrew came up beside
me.

“Whatever happened, Miss Martin?”

“Edith is not feeling well. I must see her
home.”

“Please,” he said, as his hand rested on my arm,
“allow me to offer my carriage. There is no need for your brother
and Miss Clark to be pulled away when I am departing myself.”

Without thinking too deeply into his sudden
departure, I thanked him and went to find Jack. Jack looked rather
pleased when I told him that Andrew would escort us.

“Jack, take care,” I said, but did not add any more,
for he understood my meaning as I glanced at Guinevere.

The carriage Andrew was using I had never seen
before, but I did not question him. I knew that Mr. Monroe had left
Philadelphia, and Andrew had stayed behind. He said he would be in
the city for two weeks before traveling to his uncle’s house for
their independence celebration.

Since the Knowlton’s lived outside the city, and the
only light was that of the moon and the lanterns that hung from the
carriage, the progress was slow. Conversation was sparse as Edith
moaned with every bump of the carriage. We were but a mile outside
the city, when shots rang from outside the carriage.

The carriage lurched, and Edith screamed as we were
tossed onto the floor. Andrew’s strong hands helped us to sit up,
but the carriage was resting at an angle. He pulled a pistol from
one of the seat pockets and checked it.

“Stay here,” he instructed and
opened the carriage door and climbed down. I felt around for a
second pistol, and my finger had touched one when Edith screamed
again. Twisting around, I came face to face with a man wearing a
muffler pulled over his mouth and nose. A pistol was in his hand
pointed directly
at my heart.

“Out,” he ordered, and slowly I rose and started to
climb down.

When my feet hit solid ground, I heard punches being
exchanged. The man who was taller and stronger than I cursed,
tucking his pistol into his belt. He wrapped his arms around my
waist, throwing me over his shoulder. He ran with me toward his
horse. I did not have a pistol, but I did have a knife strapped to
my leg. If I could only reach it. Knowing that the man would have
to release me to get me on his horse that was when I would strike.
Edith screamed my name, terror in her voice, and Andrew was running
toward us with the other man sprawled on the ground behind him. I
would not have to rescue myself. I was set on my feet beside a
large horse, and my captor swung around, but the pistol was knocked
from his hand, and a fist was thrown against his jaw. When the
pistol hit the ground, I quickly picked it up and leveled it, but
the two men were wrapped in each other’s arms, engaged in a
dangerous dance of sorts. As soon as my aim was upon my erstwhile
captor, they would shift, and the barrel would be pointed at
Andrew.