When Guinevere was in my arms she told me what had transpired that night with Betsy. She also told me that Betsy still did not know the truth about Abe. It had been decided that Saw would be the one to tell her. That was well with me for I did not believe that I could look into her sweet face and tell her that her brother had been murdered.
Betsy and a man appeared down the street, hurrying toward us.
Releasing my wife, I went to meet them.
“Mr. Martin,” Betsy said, relief in her voice. “Is your mother and Charlotte with you?”
Dread filled me with a sudden flood, squashing my relief. “Betsy, I need you to tell me exactly what has transpired.”
She did, and her words only strengthened the dread.
“I had hoped them to have gone on to Washington without me. Foolish hope, I know,” Betsy admitted.
“Hope is never foolish,” the elegant young man beside her said, as he laid a hand on her arm. “Hope is the constant that keeps up going when life treats us unfairly.”
Taking in the appearance of the man, who was obviously a gentleman and clearly not from Baltimore, I found him to be earnest in all his looks. And he held evident affection for Betsy.
“Forgive me, Mr. Martin,” Betsy said when she noticed me watching them curiously. “Please allow me to present Mr. James Percy Wilson of New York. James, this is Mr. Martin.” She lowered her voice and added, “Loutaire.”
“Indeed?” James Wilson extended his hand to me. “It is a right pleasure to meet you, sir. I have had the pleasure of meeting your wife, and seeing her skill at work. Talented is what I say.”
“Call me Jack, and yes, my wife has abounding talents.” I smiled in her direction though she was not looking at me.
“Is Abe with Sam and Bess?” Betsy asked, drawing my full attention, and my grief, though I masked that from showing on my face. “I am eager to introduce him to James.” Betsy cast her gaze toward the ground shyly.
“You should come to the house with us,” I said, extending the invitation to James as well. If a relationship had evolved between the two as I suspected, she would need his support when she learned the truth. A truth that only Sam should tell her.
We checked the carriage and found it sturdy so James drove the carriage, with Betsy, Hannah, and Guinevere inside, while Freddy and I followed on our horses.
Arriving at the house, I ushered the ladies and James inside while Freddy said that he would see to our horses.
The last time that Guinevere and I had been in this house together was the day that we first met.
“Betsy!” Bess exclaimed, pulling the girl into her arms the moment she entered the parlor.
Sam looked to me with a question in his eyes. I shook my head. Betsy was introducing James to Bess when I motioned for Hannah and Guinevere to leave the parlor with me.
In the narrow foyer, Hannah looked about her. “I suppose there is no housekeeper, so it is left to me to scrounge us up some food if there is any to be found.” She started toward the back of the house.
“I think I saw a chicken out back,” I called after her.
“A live chicken?” She smirked, tossing her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “Not for long.”
We heard the front door open and turned to see Freddy, Leo, and Dudley enter the house along with a man that I had never met. I motioned for them to come down the hall and into the kitchen.
Guinevere explained what had happened before Leo introduced the young man beside him.
“Bill Whitby, delighted,” he said as he shook my hand.
Leo looked gravely at me. “Sam is telling her?”
I nodded, and everyone became silent, with Bill looking between us.
“Betsy’s brother Abraham was murdered in Charleston five days ago,” I told Bill.
Bill’s expression darkened. “Do we know by whose hand?”
“A group of men who call themselves royal guards, even though there is nothing royal about them,” Guinevere said, before resting her head against my shoulder. Tucking her into me, I rubbed my fingers along her arm while Freddy and Dudley explained some of our history with the royal guards.
“If it is aid you need, James and I offer ours without reserve.” Bill glanced down the narrow hall toward the front parlor. “If you have not seen, though I do not know how you would not have, being spies, James has a partiality for Miss Betsy. He had hoped to gain her brother’s permission…” He let his words drop as his expression clouded with grief, even though he had never met Abe. I suspected that Betsy had talked to these men much about her brother.
“Jack,” Sam called from the parlor. When I joined him, he was alone with James. “Mr. Wilson has offered to assist us on our mission.”
James was standing with his back to the fireplace, and there was anger showing by the lines at the corners of his rigid mouth.
“He has also told me of a group that meets here once a month. Called Levitas.” Sam’s expression remained impassive as he went on. “And they are meeting tomorrow night.”
After asking the others to join us, we sat around the parlor, except my wife who had decided to assist Hannah in the kitchen.
I addressed those in the parlor. “James tells us that tomorrow night is a meeting of Levitas in the temple where we found Freddy. Do you remember, Leo?”
Leo’s lips curled in a wicked smile that was directed toward Freddy as he stretched out his fingers. “Indeed I do.”
He had struck Freddy when he discovered that Freddy was trading information with the royal guards. Letting them know where Guinevere was to be found. It turned out to be by Guinevere’s order, which, when she confessed to me, astonished me no small amount, but that was my wife. Always plotting with an end goal in mind. She had wanted the royal guards to come for her so that the Holy Order’s guards and the Phantoms could put an end to them. It turned out that there were more than we realized. Even now, Luther still had a few dozen hiding.
Hannah and Guinevere brought in a stack of bowls and a pot of something that definitely was not chicken. When Hannah scooped something from the pot and ladled it into my bowl it was beans.
“Was the chicken too much for you, Hannah?”
“Would you care for another helping, Jack?” Hannah swung the full ladle over my lap. Scooting away from her, I shook my head.
One side of her lips tilted up as she moved on to give the rest of the men some beans.
We made plans to go to the Levitas meeting while we ate.
When the bowls had been scraped clean, everyone else took themselves off, leaving Guinevere and I alone.
We sat in silence on the worn sofa for so long that I wondered if she was remembering the first time that we met.
I had been on a routine patrol of the city, which was something that the Phantoms did every night, when I saw a man accosting a girl in an alley behind a tavern. Many such things happened, and they never failed to boil my blood. Without much thought other than putting a stop to the man’s intended treachery, I ran into the alley and attacked the man. It only took two strikes of my fist to knock him down. Without much thought for anything but getting the girl away from there, I took her hand and pulled her from the alley. Her hand trembled in mine and all I could think about was what if something similar had happened to Bess or Mariah. I would want someone to escort them to safety. So that was what I did.
If my father had discovered that I was bringing an unknown girl into our safe house, he would have been livid, but my father was not in Baltimore, and everyone else was out on patrols. We would be alone, and there I could discover how to help the girl find her home. It was not until we ran under a lantern that I saw how young she was. That incensed me all the more. I brought her into this house, this very room, and grabbed a blanket, draping it over her shaking shoulders. The fire in the room was the only light, but it was enough to see her beautiful face. For a moment I struck dumb, unable to form a cohesive thought, much less speak. She was beautiful, with eyes of a deep blue. A face
made of regal angles, and a pert little nose that she rose in the air when I asked her name.
“I shall call you Duchess,” I said assuredly, even though inside I was as nervous as an unschooled whelp. The only girls I had ever had any real contact with were my sister and my fellow Phantom. They taught me that girls were complex creatures.
“I am Jack,” I then said. For some reason I wanted to protect this little girl that reminded me of a delicate flower. The few emotions rolling within me were confusing to say the least. I wanted to help her find her family, but a greater part of me wanted to keep her with me, never letting her go. For a brief, foolhardy moment, I considered what would happen if I did try to keep her. If she was an orphan, I would try to convince my father to train her as a Phantom, but as soon as that thought formed, I shoved it away. I did not want her being a Phantom. I wanted to keep her safe, not shove her into a life of danger. My emotions were so strong that I feared them showing in my eyes. My father had taught me never to allow my emotions to show, so I turned away from her in the guise of stoking the fire, and tried to rein in my feelings.
Forcing myself to feel confident, in charge of the situation, I turned toward her, prepared to ask her who her people were, when she took me unaware. She moved with swift ease, pressing her hand against the back of my neck and drawing my head down to meet hers. When her lips pressed against mine, all thoughts, all reason, all recognition of anything fled. A girl, who was not a barmaid or tavern wench, was kissing me. Having little experience with such things did not hold me back. My arm started to move around her, to draw her closer. She shoved herself away from me, and raised a knife.
Crossing my arms over chest, more to keep them from shaking than from real composure, I stared down at her in my haughtiest manner. Her eyes narrowed and I bit my lip to keep from laughing. She looked so indignant that I wanted to discover all that I could about her.
“What do you mean to do with that?” I asked her.
“What I must,” she replied as she began to back toward the door.
I remember taking a step toward her, and then the little ball of fire threw her knife at me! I dodged the blade with easy reflexes, but when I righted myself, she had made it out the door. The excitement of a chase surged within me. There was no possibility of her being able to outrun or outsmart me, or so I thought, until I searched all night and could find no trace of her.
When I returned home, I found her knife and kept it with me through the war, hoping to one day find that girl and return her knife.
Now, with her sitting beside me and her head resting on my shoulder, I knew that I had received more than I deserved. She was my wife.
“I love you, Jack,” she said after a moment.
“I love you, Constance,” I replied as I rested my lips against her head.
“I hoped you would say that,” she said softly, and I could tell that she was smiling. “Because we are going to have a child.”
For a full minute I was certain that I could not have heard her correctly. Then she turned toward me.
“Well? Have you nothing to say?”
“Are you certain?” I asked with a hoarse voice.
As I cleared it, she smiled and nodded. “I spoke with Leo about my symptoms and he assured me that I am. He says that it will happen in the spring.”
“Are you well? Why did you not tell me sooner? I would not have dragged you with me here,” I said quickly.
She began to laugh, which did not allay my fears for her wellbeing. “I am well, my love. And you did not drag me. I came of my own free will. I am not an invalid. I am healthy, and I will not be left out so you may as well put that thought from your head, Jack Martin.” She leaned forward and kissed me.
She spoke a little of what Leo said we could expect. She surprised me when she said that Leo had delivered a few babies. As his father had been a doctor before being the head of the royal guards, Leo had trained with him, when he was not training to be a soldier.
As I held her in my arms, fear began to grow with great speed and weight. We were going to be having a child. I knew nothing about children. We were bringing new life into our uncertain lives.
How incredibly irresponsible could I be? I could not be a father. My own father had taken little interest in me above how I could assist him in his work.
Picking up her hand, I held it on my lap and began to caress her fingers.
She pulled something from her reticule and handed it to me. When I read it, it was a list of possible baby names, and she wanted my opinion.
Did I have an opinion? I was still trying to fathom that she had married me. Now, together, we had made life. It was a bit much for me to take in. If I was this unsure of my feelings, I could not imagine how she was feeling.
Unable to keep my thoughts quiet any longer, I asked her if she was happy.
She bit her lip as she leaned back so that she could see my face.
“When I first came to America, I never thought I would be married, because I never thought that anyone could accept me and my life. My past. The things I have done. Then, when I was fourteen, I met you, and I knew that I never wanted to marry anyone else. So, to answer your question, no, I am not simply happy. I have so much joy in my heart that it is more than I can comprehend. I am carrying your child, and nothing on this earth could make me happier.”
I slowly leaned toward her, giving myself some time to control my emotions, for they were many. This enthralling, amazing, brilliant, strong woman loved me. I was certain that I had not done enough to deserve her, and I never would, but I would spend my life trying.
She tilted her head expectantly. My kiss was lingering, soft, and filled with so much hope. Caressing her soft lips with my own, I allowed her peace to fill me. If Constance, who had gone through as many battles as I had, could be overjoyed, then I would do my best to join her.
She smiled so peacefully that she could have asked me to jump into the ocean and I would have done it just to keep the smile on her lips.
****
The following day, James and Bill accompanied me to meet with Mr. Caruthers. They had known the constable since coming to Baltimore, so they were able to introduce me. After reading James’s letter, Mr. Caruthers put his constables at my disposal, and offered me ten men to assist us in our battle against Luther. They were to accompany us to the Levitas meeting where they would arrest all of those whom we captured. With them joining Monroe’s guards, I knew we could not fail. That brought some relief, but that was not weighed heavily upon my mind.
After a full day to consider that I would be a father, I admit that the fear was still there. It was that which drove me to keep Guinevere safe.
We were standing outside of the Weston’s Mercantile later that night and I was arguing with my wife. She wanted to go inside with me, Leo, Monroe’s guards, and the constables. I wanted her to remain outside with Dudley, Betsy, James, and Sam. I tried telling her that it was a precaution against any of the members running, but she did not believe me. She finally agreed, but only because Betsy asked her to remain behind. Betsy, bless her, was so soft spoken and sweet that Guinevere could not deny her.
Betsy had appeared at the breakfast table that morning, saying nothing about Abe’s death, but determined to go with us to the Levitas meeting. We tried to make her understand that it was too dangerous, until James arrived and promised me that he would watch over Betsy. James thought that she needed something to occupy her thoughts. I agreed, but only after telling him that nothing would induce me to allow her to enter the building where the meeting was to be held.
I knew that Guinevere would not deny Betsy anything that she asked, and not only because she had just lost her brother.
After what had happened to Betsy in Charleston, while we had been on a mission in Savannah, Betsy had changed. She had matured, grown in confidence, but she was also wary of everyone that she met.
Betsy and Abraham Coles had been born into slavery. Their mother had been a slave in Charleston
, and their father was the plantation owner. George Crawford. He had sired both Abraham and Betsy. When he moved to Philadelphia after their mother’s death, he had sold everything to his nephew Sam. Sam had then set to acquiring manumission for all of the servants under his care. As it turned out, it had been George’s money that had paid for all of the costs in acquiring manumission for so many people.
The newly freed men, women, and children were given the choice of staying on at Sam’s plantation to work for a wage, or to receive some money to help them start over somewhere else. Most chose to move on, but many stayed behind. Betsy and Abe, being Sam’s cousins by blood, were told that they need never work again if they so chose. Sam tried to give them their inheritance, left behind after George’s death, for he had no other children, but they refused. They agreed to live with Sam, Bess, and Charlotte, but they would not accept any of George’s money.
After my mother and Rose rescued Betsy from her captor, an angry, vicious plantation owner who had taken a liking to her, they wanted to get her away from Charleston, but dear, sweet Betsy refused to run away in fear. It was only when my mother was to take Charlotte to Washington that Betsy agreed to leave Charleston and travel with them.
I had thought she would be bitter about all that had transpired in her short life, and rightly so, but as Betsy told Guinevere that not all plantation owners were driven by hate and evilness. She said that she had met many who were kind, like Sam. She said that they were raised to their way of life, and though we knew slavery was wrong they did not. She told Guinevere that all she could do was try to make society better, safer, in whatever capacity that was available to her.
Her words humbled both Guinevere and myself, so when Betsy asked Guinevere to do something, she did it without a complaint. It was not often that Betsy asked for anything.
phantom knights 04 - deceit in delaware Page 14