Phantoms In Philadelphia (9 page)

As I looked toward the door, my stomach clenched
tight as heat crept up my neck. The young woman from the Inn was
covering her mouth with her fan, but I could see the laughter in
her eyes. She looked away as a group of men surrounded her.

A tug on my arm brought me back to
where I was, standing in the middle of the floor with Elvira. I
begged her pardon and escorted her to her aunt. The woman scowled
at me, but I excused myself without apologizing to her.
She
did not deserve an
apology.

An army of men was surrounding the woman from the
Inn when I reached them. I could only stand at the back of the
group.

“Greetings, John,” Thomas one of my friends said to
me in his good natured voice.

“Thomas, good evening,” I replied as I shook the
hand he held out to me. Thomas was the most unruly of all my
friends. It did not matter where we were, whether it be at a card
party or an elegant evening soiree, you could count on two things.
One; that Thomas’s appearance, from his yellow hair to his loose
fitting attire, would be in disarray, and two; that he did not care
in the least.

“I see that you have noticed the newest beauty in
our midst.”

“Who is she?” I asked, as I tried to get a view of
her through the ten men hovering over her.

“Miss Clark. Newly arrived last month and staying
with a chaperone. It is said that she has come to find her legal
guardian, but I know no more.”

“Will you introduce me?” I asked, hope rising inside
me.

Thomas smiled impishly. “Let us see if we can
squeeze through this den.” Thomas’s smile faded, and he became all
business, pushing his way through the men. “Look out, coming
through. Master of the house coming through. Stand aside.” I
followed Thomas as we pressed our way through the men, most of whom
I knew well. I stood behind Thomas, allowing his tall frame to
block me as he greeted Miss Clark, and then he stepped aside.

“Miss Clark, allow me to present my friend and the
master of this house, Mr. John Martin.”

I bowed before her, and when I looked into her eyes,
she smiled. She was poetically beautiful. Her auburn hair was piled
atop her head, her purple-blue eyes unmatched in any other person I
had ever seen, and she had a dimple in her right cheek when she
smiled.

“I do hope that no more discomforts have plagued
you,” I said as I straightened.

Her eyes lit up. “It
is
you, I was sure that I
could not be mistaken.” Upon Thomas’s look of inquiry, she
explained. “Mr. Martin rendered me a service yesterday. He was
quite gallant.”

Thomas looked from her to me in disbelief. “What,
Saint John, our proud poet, the knight gallant? Surely you
mistake.”

“Saint
John? I had not heard that epithet, but I have heard of you,”
she said.

“Lies, I assure you, if it was from this lot here
that you heard my name.”

Thomas and a few of the others cried against my
words, but I ignored them.

“He is destined for the church you see,” Thomas
explained, and I felt myself losing ground.

She looked at me like she could not believe it, or
would not. “But you are a man of birth and family. Surely the
church is not necessary.”

“I assure you, Miss Clark, that the church is always
necessary, but as for joining, it is yet undecided.”

“Ah.” She said the one word as if she were
relieved.

The men began to press closer, growing restless at
my taking up so much of her time, so I held out my hand, determined
to get her away from the group. “Might I have the privilege of this
dance?”

She cast down her eyes. “I am
unsure how to reply. What if you stop in the middle of our dance
and I am cast upon the floor?” She lifted her eyes to mine,
amusement sparkling in their depths. I said nothing as Thomas came
to my
rescue.

“No fear there, John is an excellent dancer.” He
stopped abruptly, and I nearly laughed as he went on, “Oh, what I
mean to say is that he will surely trip you. You should instead
dance with me. I shall not cast you upon the floor.” Thomas held
out his hand to her as well, but it was mine that she reached
for.

As I led her into the set, I assured her that I
would not tread upon her feet. She laughed. Her voice was like a
melodious song. She reminded me of a bird; a beautiful, rare bird
that if not handled with extreme care, would suddenly fly away,
never to return.

“Is it true that you always carry a book of
sonnets?”

I smiled, for without their knowing, my friends had
done much to aid me by talking to her of me. I laid a hand on my
chest where my pocket was within my coat. “It is true, for one
never knows when one may be called upon to render a verse.”

Her smile turned mocking. “Love looks not with the
eyes, but with the mind?”

So she knew poetry, did she? Before I could make a
reply she added, “Do you believe that for truth?”

“Truth is a matter of perception, with each man
believing his perception is the only way,” I replied simply and
honestly before I reflected how my words would be taken. As we
separated in the dance, I watched her brows crease. I wanted to
kick myself for stepping out of my role of a poet and speaking my
true thoughts. There was something about the woman that made me
want to be honest, and that in itself was a danger.

When we came back together in the dance, I was ready
to speak a verse to her about her beauty, but she spoke first.

“Is that woman a relation of yours?”

As my eyes moved in the direction Miss Clark was
looking, Bess was watching us intently. I smiled at Bess, and she
smirked in return. “Yes, that is my sister Elizabeth. I know that
she will want to meet you. I shall present you if you have no
objections.”

“None,” Miss Clark replied before moving away
again.

When the dance ended, I did not have the opportunity
to make an introduction, as Richard came upon us.

“John, I was hoping to find you. Would you accompany
me to the library? A group of my friends are there and desire to
meet my future son.” He spoke the words as if all of Philadelphia
were privileged to the truth. As I glanced around, I realized that
they were. My mother had some explaining to do. I turned to Miss
Clark, excusing myself, but I had little qualms over leaving her as
she was pounced upon the moment I stepped away.

My library was opened, as a place where men could
gather. When Richard and I entered the room it was full of older
men, most of whom I was acquainted, but Richard did not know
that.

Richard began the introductions with a tall man who
had his back to me. When he turned, I clenched my hands at my sides
as my first impulse was to strike. Miss Clark’s attacker stared me
down with as much hostility in his eyes as I was feeling in my
body.

“John, allow me to present Nicholas Mansfield.”

For a moment, I stared up at the man in incredulity.
I had half expected the man who accosted Miss Clark to be some poor
tradesman, but no, he was not only a man of some means but the
possible leader of Levitas. More than ever, I wanted to pull out my
small pocket pistol and rid the world of the scum.

“My dear Nicholas, what happened to your jaw?”
Richard asked.

Nicholas’s jaw was swollen and an ugly mixture of
purple and black. I bit back my smile.

“I tripped over an upturned rug striking my chin on
a table.”

“You must pay heed to those upturned rugs; you never
know from whence they will spring,” I said, then moved on with
Richard, turning away from Nicholas’s menacing stare.

Richard started to introduce the next man, but I
stopped him.

“The General and I are well acquainted.”

As I shook General Harvey’s hand, Richard turned
away giving me a chance to speak alone with the long-time family
friend. “What think you of that one?”

The general’s bushy eyebrows rose pointedly, and the
silver whiskers on his cheeks twitched as his eyes took in Richard.
“A fine match. Your mother has done well for herself.”

General Harvey’s opinion meant much to me since he
had been a close friend of my father’s. My father had always spoken
of the general with pride; something that William Martin did not
make a habit of with other people. Only three men ever made my
father gush with pride. General Harvey, George Washington, and
Benjamin Franklin.

I did not make a reply. I had sent to Baltimore for
more news of Richard, and the contents of the reply would form my
decision for me.

A six-inch scar on the general’s left cheek, only
partially covered by his full gray and white beard, captured my
attention. It was an old war wound, and for some reason, I could
not help but glance at it every time he was near. Looking away I
listened as the general said he would be hosting a party for his
niece, Edith, Bess’s dearest friend, and expected us to be
present.

Once Richard introduced me to the last of his
friends, I moved to lean against the wall as most of the seats in
the room were filled.

Nicholas greeted different men, making his way about
the room, when something caught my eye. As he greeted a man named
Charles Knowlton, Nicholas stood with his right foot pointed
straight ahead, but his left foot was behind and to the left. When
they shook hands his first and second fingers wrapped around
Charles Knowlton’s wrist in the shape of a v. It would not have
been suspicious to anyone else, but I knew he had ties to Levitas,
and I had read about the v handshake in the Levitas book. It was
code for a meeting.

After Nicholas had sat in a chair
near the fire, the conversation turned political. Mr. James Monroe
was the hopeful to take President Madison’s place. Mr. Monroe was a
kind, good man. He would make a fine president—in my opinion at
least.

I moved away to the window that looked out to the
street. I wanted to listen without the men thinking I was
listening. Most of them knew of my aversion to all things
political, or at least that was what I made them believe. I was
interested in the outcome of the election, especially since it
would change the course of the Phantoms.

When my father formed the Phantoms, Mr. Monroe was
one of men who joined him. He was a silent founder and only a part,
because of his political connections, but if he chose to disband
the Phantoms when he took office, he would have the power to do
so.

Nicholas’s voice, excusing himself,
brought my thoughts back to the room. Nicholas walked into the
foyer and stopped to speak with someone out of my view, but I could
see the copper colored skirt of her dress. Nicholas took a letter
from her, inserted it into his inner coat pocket, and returned to
the library. I turned back to the window.
Intriguing.

When Nicholas was again in his seat, I went into the
drawing room, arriving as another dance was concluding and
intercepted Miss Clark. She agreed to dance with me again, much to
the chagrin of a young man who must have been her next partner.

While we danced, I mentioned her slighted partner,
and she laughed.

“They may think what they like, but I choose to
dance with you. We have a common interest after all.”

“Do we?” I asked, trying to think what it could
be.

“Yes, but I shall not tell you what it is. If you
want to know, you must call upon me tomorrow.”

“I shall be only too happy to oblige,” I replied,
though I was a little taken aback at her forwardness in suggesting
that I call upon her, but pleased nonetheless.

When the dance was ended, I kept hold of her hand,
placing it on my arm as I led her toward my sister. Bess was
standing beside a young woman dressed in pink with golden hair like
morning sunshine.

We were but a few feet away, when a sultry voice
spoke loudly, “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 stiffened,
feeling hot, but my outrage was nothing in comparison to Miss
Clark. Her eyes were narrowed, and her delightful mouth was set in
a hard line.

As Bess turned, I caught a flash of a copper-colored
skirt. It was the same woman who had given Nicholas the letter.

Bess

L
ong
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.